


Cruel World

by latinsimona (shadow0fdeath)



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, noodle and russel will be making appearances believe me, things i want to share with everyone, this is just babbles honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow0fdeath/pseuds/latinsimona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't easy maintaining a friendship for the better part of 16 years, but they found ways to make it work. // Murdoc and 2D everywhere from post-coma to Plastic Beach and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this was originally posted on fanfic.net but I wanted to drag it over here because sometimes this place seems a bit more active. This is mainly just a bunch of snippets of what I've thought up for Murdoc and 2D's relationship over the years. All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

"Murdoc, be careful!"

Instead of retorting with the slew of insults that hung on the tip of his tongue, Murdoc only rolled his eyes at the shill screaming emitting from his beloved singer. The bassist had been steadily climbing his way up a tree which, in hindsight, never really looked stable enough to hold him, but Murdoc's never been one to shy away from a bit of danger.

"For the last time, dullard, I can hold my own in this bloody tree. I'll be down in a minute, yeah? Hold your pretty horses." Murdoc assured him, discolored gaze squinting up at the bottle of rum a couple branches above his current spot. Only a few more feet, anyway. He could make it in his sleep.

Finally granted the silence he so desired, the only sound coming from the blue-haired singer down on the sand below him being the occasional whimper of fear, Murdoc allowed himself to relax a bit as he trudged up the winding beach tree. Hoisting one foot up precariously on the end of a branch (probably not a good idea) and reaching for the next one up (definitely not a good idea), Murdoc unknowingly grasped what appeared to be a slippery birds nest. Thinking nothing of it, Murdoc allowed all of his weight to be supported by this one limb, the very same limb that held on for dear life to the birds nest placed gently on the branch the bassist was grasping at. Then,

“Muds, look out!” The shrill scream came from his singer. The blue-haired male down in the sand noticed a rather large bird making its way down directly towards where Murdoc was grasping at the branch, showing no signs of slowing the speed he’d come swooping down at. The abrupt noise startled the bassist, causing his grip on the branch to loosen further.

“Wot the hell-” Murdoc had begun to conjure up a list of every curse word in the book to direct at singer for unknowingly scaring the very wits out of him, but before he could finish the accusation, he found his body falling backwards, his grip no longer solidified on the branch, but instead, wrapped tightly around a small birds nest. The bassist barely had time to scream before his back made a painful impact against the thick branch beneath him, hurtling his body further down the tree until he finally came to a sharp ‘thunk’ in the sand below. 

x

“Gravity-y-y-y-y-yyy on me, never let me die, gently,” 2D’s soft vocals resonated throughout the small section of the island the Gorillaz were inhabiting. His perch on the roof helped to carry the sound all throughout the beach huts that each of the members resided in. “Gravity-y-y-y-y-yyy, with me, never let me go, no, no.”

Lying awake in his own hut, body clad in nothing but an unbuttoned pair of denim jeans and the sweat-soaked fabric of his bedsheets, Murdoc allowed his cigarette to burn loosely between his lips, his gaze trained on the ceiling as he listened to the blue-haired male sing. And boy, was he singing. 

Despite his generally abusive and demeaning attitude towards 2D, Murdoc truly admired him. Not only for surviving not one, not two, but three very serious head injuries (two straight from his own hands), but for his passion. It was no secret that 2D didn’t understand much (three violent blows to the head tended to do that to a person), but one thing he always understood was music. No matter what, whether the song be for shits and giggles or something of true substance, 2D was always focused, always calculating how to make the sound better, where to add more guitar, where to lighten up on the drums a bit. Murdoc enjoyed watching 2D most when he was hunched over his keyboard, thick eyebrows drawn together in concentration with a forgotten cigarette burning between his lips as he conjured up what was always sure to be another piece of musical genius. It truly was a sight to see. 

But what 2D’s singing up on the roof, Murdoc’s never heard before. He can only assume that sitting atop a hut in the middle of a Jamaican beach was what had inspired this particular tune, considering it’s main focal point being gravity, the very thing tying 2D down to the roof instead of allowing him to drift away in the clouds as he so longed to do. 2D was alone up there, he knows. Everyone else had retired to their huts hours ago, ready to get some shut eye after a long, relaxing day on the beach. A part of Murdoc urges him to get up and go join the lonesome boy, but he refrains. He wants 2D to really think about this tune, without his influence. He wants to see what 2D’s fractured head can come up with when he’s alone with nothing but his lungs and the stars above him. 

“I don’t pull me down,” 2D croons, his voice having dropped a bit after a particularly long pause. Murdoc can practically hear the gears turning in his head, his mind conjuring a rhythm to go along with the slow tune. “I don’t pull me down on me.”

Not long after he’s finished this line, he starts up again with where he began, the word gravity flowing through his lips and soothing over Murdoc like a cool blanket. Murdoc can practically see 2D now, legs swinging over the edge of the roof, eyes drawn upward towards the stars, large fingers twisted around each other comfortingly. He can see the mussed blue locks, the violet-tinted bags that resided underneath each one of his hollow eyes, the dumb K.F.C. tattoo standing proudly against the pale skin of his shoulder. Murdoc allows his eyes to drift close with his imagination, allowing the various colors and shapes to take form behind his eyelids. He’s accepted that sleep won’t be coming to him anytime soon, so he figures he may as well enjoy a live performance. 

Soon though, Murdoc’s ever intuitive ears pick up on the familiar creek of a wooden door being pushed open, though he can still hear 2D singing from a spot that still sounds like the roof. Eyebrows hidden by a thick fringe scrunch together in confusion as discolored eyes slide open. Murdoc gets his answer soon enough as 2D pauses his singing for a moment, the sound of small footsteps on the roof echoing across the beach before there’s a faint thump as whoever the second individual is takes a seat on the roof with 2D. Knowing that rationally, there’s no way Russel could get up there without risking collapsing the entire island, Murdoc derives that it must be young Noodle, woken from her slumber by the sound of her bandmates voice.

“‘ello, little love.” 2D said softly, his voice warm and full of adoration. Even through the walls of his hut, Murdoc can hear just how fond 2D is of Noodle. Despite never exactly understanding their friendship, Murdoc knew that the pair were quite close, frequently chasing each other up and down the halls of Kong and playing video games. Murdoc’s always assumed 2D had taken such a liking to her because she was the only one in the house with the patience to deal with his rather delayed thinking. And as for Noodle, the bassist knows that it’s not easy to escape 2D’s boyish charm once you’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in it. He can vouch for that himself. 

“Hai.” Noodle replied, and Murdoc picked up on the faint thrum of what appeared to be an acoustic guitar. He concluded that Noodle must have enjoyed whatever it was that 2D had been singing, and decided to add her own little piece to it. Murdoc smiled. 

The insects thrived in the nighttime hour, cicadas singing their song at full volume and crickets chirping along to the sound. Somewhere along the trees, an owl occasionally chimed in with a low pitched coo of his own tune, piping up only to to have his own say in the music being created around him. 

“Gravity-y-y-y-y-yyy on me, never let me die, gently,” 2D began to sing again, voice transformed from the high-pitched warble of his speech to the smooth velvet of his song. Murdoc listened, eyes trained on the door before him as his ears absorbed the sound of Noodle’s guitar joining in on the tune. And oh, it’s so wonderful. 

Contrary to her lack of understanding when it came to the English language, Noodle, much like 2D, seemed to have a natural knack for music. The girl barely needed time to hear 2D singing before she was piping in with a fitting guitar track to accompany him, a frown of concentration taking over her childish features. The two were always in perfect harmony.

Feeling the familiar calling of music thrumming through his bones, Murdoc heaved out a sigh, hoisting his sweaty body up from his damp sheets as he forced himself to stand up. Sliding his toes in the pair of pink flip flops 2D had bought for him before the trip, Murdoc snagged his pack of cigarettes from the small table beside his bed, making quick work of lighting one up before he headed out of his hut and into the soft sand that surrounded it. 

Looking up, he’d immediately spotted 2D and Noodle on the roof a hut over, Noodle’s frame barely visible due to her small stature in comparison to 2D’s towering 6’2 height. Both allowed their legs to dangle freely over the edge of the roof, but their concentrations were in opposite directions. 2D looked up at the stars, his black orbs working to take in as much as they possibly could, while Noodle looked down at her guitar, her fingers moving deftly across the various strings as she produced a beautiful melody to accompany 2D’s singing.  
Coming to stand in front of the hut, Murdoc crossed his arms, his gaze drawn upward at the pair on the roof as he found himself unable to look away from the way they worked together. His cigarette hung loosely between his lips, the smoke drifting in front of his gaze and snapping him back to reality as he broke out of his trance. He listened as 2D trailed off, having been repeating the same few lines he’d first conjured up for the past few minutes or so. His black eyed gaze never faltered from the stars. After a long pause of silence, Murdoc heard Noodle release a soft yawn before she pushed herself into an upright position, all 3’4 of her, and clambered down off of the roof to return back to her own hut. If 2D noticed her departure, he made no move of showing so. 

Deciding to join 2D up on the roof just to see what exactly has captured the blue-haired males attention so strongly, Murdoc hoisted himself up along the side, a low grunt leaving his lips from exertion as he clenched his lips down around his cigarette to keep it from falling. Once he finally was standing atop the roof, his body having conjured up a fresh round of sweat due to his efforts, he walked over to the edge where 2D sat, eyes still trained unrelentingly to the vast night sky. 

The pair remained silent, both aware of each others presence, yet doing nothing to acknowledge it. Murdoc was the first to break the silence.

“Oi, dullard,” he called, the sudden noise causing 2D to whip his head towards Murdoc’s waiting gaze. “Y’wanna cigarette?”

2D eyed the outstretched pack wearily, never having been a big fan of Murdoc’s 666 brand, but he decided to bite the bullet and take one anyway. Lighting it with ease, 2D allowed the fiery stick to burn between his slightly parted lips, his gaze still locked on Murdoc.

Despite the glare that the bassist was shooting him out of the corner of his red eye, 2D refused to allow himself to look away. The moon was perched on the horizon, seemingly sitting halfway atop the moving surface of the black sea stretched out before them and halfway drowning beneath its waters, displaying a soft white beam and dousing Murdoc’s features in such a heavenly glow that 2D couldn’t take his eyes off of him. 

“You’re quite…” 2D trailed off, knowing that despite the bassists seemingly calm demeanor, that he had the potential to erupt like a volcano upon any given misstep on 2D’s behalf. “Beautiful. Sitting like this.”

He received a grunt in response. 

“Always knew you were a ponce.” Murdoc murmured in return, though there was no venom in his tone. The blue-haired singer couldn’t help but smile, the dopey grin he was oh-so famous for splitting his features as his chin dropped to his chest. Much like a giddy schoolgirl, his heart fluttered within the cavern of his chest. He hadn’t felt that strongly towards Murdoc for ages. 

“Did I wake ya?” 2D suddenly questioned after another lull in conversation, wide black orbs blinking owlishly in Murdoc’s direction. The Satanist blinked, glancing over at his singer for a moment before returning his gaze to ever wavering horizon stretched out before them. 

“No. Maybe,” Murdoc added after a moment, a shrug gracing his bare shoulders. “Doesn’t matter much now, though, does it?”

2D thought over this for a moment.

“No. It doesn’t.”

In a rare moment of bravery and confidence fueled on by the freedom of the night sky before him and the notion that he _too_ could be as free as the stars stretched out across it, 2D slid his frame over to Murdoc, moving oh so slightly and slowly as to not alarm the older male onto his intentions. Murdoc, ever perceptive, noticed, but made no move to stop the blue-haired singer. 

So 2D didn’t stop.

Sliding himself right up against Murdoc’s side, close enough where he could feel the drying beads of sweat on the older males torso and the tickle of his sideburns against his own cheek, the singer hesitantly inclined his head _right, right, right_ , until finally, his ear pressed warmly against the meaty top of Murdoc’s shoulder. 2D couldn’t believe his luck.

Murdoc was never one much for personal contact, in fact, he generally went out of his way to avoid it. 2D learned his lesson against that long ago, after one too many hugs sent the bassists direction left him flat on his ass with stars swimming behind his eyes. Despite how horrifically disappointing it was for 2D (he was a hugger, you see), he had learned to accept it as one of the things that simply made up _Murdoc_. 

Before Noodle, before Russel, before Kong, there was just Stu-Pot and Murdoc, struggling to make ends meet and going through each day by doing as little as possible. When Murdoc got in one of his more destructive states, 2D remembered those times, when they both would sit on the roof of Murdoc’s apartment complex, nothing surrounding them but the starry night and the smoke emitting from their burning cigarettes. He learned more about his bassist in those lonely months they spent together than he ever would, or ever could, hope to. 

“D’ya,” 2D began, the memories being so pressing at the forefront of his mind that he couldn’t stop the flow of words if he’d wanted to. “D’ya remember when we used to-”

“Yes.” Murdoc finished, the word curt and officially cutting off any chance 2D held at diving into a pool of nostalgia and dragging the Satanist down with him. The singer resigned himself, a sigh rumbling through his tight chest and leaving him boneless as he slouched against the side of the bassist. Suddenly, Murdoc was looking at him. 

Holding eye contact with Murdoc was much like staring directly into the sun. While Murdoc wasn’t quite as blindingly beautiful, he definitely was still _blinding_. The mismatched gaze held confidence and power and demanded respect without even blinking. The bassist knew he was intimidating, and enjoyed using that peculiar trait to his liking. 2D found himself breathless at the sudden eye contact, the moment tense and heavy and all _too much_ for the poor dimwitted singer to take in. 

“Muds,” not a call, but a plea. A desperate plea for Murdoc to do _something_ about the fire he’d just started within the pit of 2D’s stomach, the one that bubbled throughout his insides uncomfortably and left his mouth dry as bone. 2D’s hand lifted and pressed against the warm skin of Murdoc’s jaw, the very bones of his palm trembling within their confines of skin at the _nerve_ the singer had suddenly acquired to touch Murdoc in such an intimate way. It caused Murdoc to scramble, his confidence faltering a bit at the singers boldness, though he quickly recovered. He knew that he didn’t have the excuse of alcohol or another drug-related high if he were to act on his urges, and he also knew that there was a slim to none chance that 2D would actually allow something to happen _just once_ and leave it alone forever. Murdoc listed everything that could go wrong, then threw the list away. 

“So needy,” Murdoc complained, shaking his head slightly at the desperation evident in 2D’s tone. The singer made no move to refute the accusation, if anything, he only proved it with the tremor that ran through his frame from the very top of his head to the tips of his toes. Having decided that 2D had reached the end of his confidence boost, and was probably not likely to move any further than he’d already done, Murdoc took the honors upon himself, grasped a handful of sky blue strands and tugged. 

He was a lost cause before their lips even touched. 

Much like the bliss of a started car after a repetitive series of engine revs, Murdoc felt 2D come to life beneath his very palms, the blue-haired singer lurching forward in Murdoc’s grasp and pushing as much of himself into the intimate kiss as he could. It seemed like Murdoc could feel 2D’s very heart trapped between the place where their lips pressed, ready to fall deep into his mouth the second he allowed himself to part his lips. No matter how much he may have wanted to, Murdoc was unable to refuse himself of the pleasure that the warm press of 2D’s tongue against his provided, despite the pain that was sure to come when the singers heart slid inside past his parted lips. And like the greedy man he was, Murdoc swallowed it right up. 

The Satanist committed the feel of 2D’s nose against his own, the way his large hands held his sides, and the all-encompassing smell of butterscotch to memory before he allowed himself to pull away, not having the strength to open his eyes and face what he’d just done quite yet. The incessant strokes against his jaw finally tugged Murdoc’s eyelids apart, mismatched gaze falling on the red-faced singer and his goofy grin. 

With a grunt, Murdoc pressed his palm flatly against the surface of 2D’s face, and pushed him off the roof and down into the sand.

“Poof.”

x  
They didn’t talk about it, they didn’t _do_ anything about it, but they snuck glances at each other, quick, fleeting looks that spoke volumes more than their words ever could. Murdoc swore he saw more of 2D’s dopey grin in those days following their kiss than he ever would. 

Noodle and Russel headed back to Essex four days after the kiss. And, using the excuse of more relaxation time, Murdoc tugged 2D’s hand to wrap within his own and held the two limbs fastly behind his back as he waved them off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of two chapters! It continues on to chapter 2. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason behind the Explicit rating. NC-17 folks, proceed with caution. Continuation from the previous chapter. Enjoy!

Lying on his back and feeling unable to move, Murdoc heard, rather than saw, a panicked 2D sprinting over to him and shouting his head off. A dry spray of sand came to hit him in the side of the face as 2D slid down next to him, his large hands carefully cradling the back of the bassists skull in his lap.

“Muds! Muds, can you ‘ear me?! Oh, Muds!” 2D wailed pitifully, his high-pitched voice even more annoying in his state of despair. Forcing himself to cough a bit, Murdoc fought the urge to roll his eyes at the worrisome singer. A low groan made its way through Murdoc’s lips, his eyes suddenly sliding closed as he felt the full affect of his fall radiating throughout his very bones.

“My bloody _back_.” Murdoc complained, eyes squeezing shut. 

“‘m gonna go get sum help!” 2D proclaimed, carefully setting Murdoc’s head back down against the sand before taking off running up and down the beach, waving his scrawny arms over his head and shouting out unintelligible cries for help, despite knowing that there was no one on the beach around them for a solid couple miles. All the pain in the world couldn’t have stopped Murdoc from laughing as hard as he did. 

Somewhere along his frenzied sprint, 2D managed to trip over red ring buoy lying in the sand, the obstacle sending his thin frame down into the sand, face first. 2D, ever used to dealing with a bit of pain, stood up, brushed himself off, slung the ring buoy around his waist and headed back over to where the bassist lay immobilized in the sand. 

“Hold on to dis, Muds!” 2D said, looming down over the Satanist and jutting the ring buoy forward for Murdoc to grasp. 2D’s body was blocking the bulk of the sun, sending the rays to frame around his blue-haired head and cast a heavenly glow upon his features. Feeling quite dazed and confused, Murdoc almost mistook 2D for an angel.

“What is this, Baywatch?” Murdoc questioned gruffly, ignoring the momentary spark within his groin when 2D blinked innocently at him. “That only works in water, lackwit. ‘sides, I’ll be alright, just give me a minute, Satan.”

2D immediately scrambled backwards, his long legs tripping over themselves as he worked to give Murdoc enough room to sit up. Understandably, his nerves had got the best of him, and Murdoc watched with mild amusement as his hands fumbled within the pockets of his cutoff denim shorts, tugging out a cigarette and making quick work of lighting it. The red ring buoy had slowly begun slipping down 2D’s slim waist, his thin frame unable to keep something that probably weighed as much as he did up. With a determined grunt, 2D pushed his cigarette between his lips and adjusted the ring buoy, his hands slipping beneath it to place on either side of his hips as he smiled triumphantly at Murdoc. 

“Don’t move, two dents.” Murdoc instructed suddenly, the photographer in him tapping on his shoulder and suggesting to him that maybe, just maybe, this would be something he’d want to have, later on. 

“Why not?” came the reply, though Murdoc ignored it upon realizing that 2D was following his instructions. 

Snatching up the disposable camera on the edge of 2D’s towel not too far away, he quickly snapped a shot of the grinning singer, half-finished cigarette and all. Another tightening in his groin following the _click_ of the camera alerted Murdoc of just how _long_ it’d been since he’d actually had a lay, an honest-to-god _quality_ lay, as it seemed the beautiful women in Jamaica didn’t take to his more, well, _straightforward_ antics very well. Dropping the camera by his side, Murdoc took the time to give 2D the classic elevator eyes, dual-colored orbs roaming freely over his boyish singer. He figured 2D was feminine enough, wide eyes, cute smile and an arse that was pleasantly larger than the rest of his body would suggest it to be. Murdoc had definitely bedded worse; 2D was quite easy on the eyes, actually. 

Being as perceptive as he was, Murdoc had picked up on 2D’s little schoolgirl crush quite early on in their relationship, though he never had the heart to pick on him for it. In fact, it was quite… _endearing_ , for lack of a better term. It made Murdoc feel powerful, having that kind of influence over a pretty boy like 2D. It reminded him just who was in charge around the Gorillaz. 

Truthfully, he’d only kissed 2D up on the roof to entertain the singers little crush, remind him that he very much still _did_ like Murdoc, no matter if he wanted to or not. Whether he enjoyed it or not was all coincidental. It also probably had to do with just how _miserable_ 2D seemed half of the time, black eyes cast downward and slumped shoulders, quite a bit like a kicked puppy. No matter how adamantly Murdoc may deny of any existence of a soft spot within him, it’s quite obvious when 2D’s in one of his downcast moods that there’s at least a _sliver_ of a heart in that green chest somewhere. 

“Ey, two dents,” Murdoc began, after deciding that he could use 2D as a warm body and a hole, nothing more, nothing less. Give the singer something to remember when he was alone in his room at night, sweaty and harboring an insistent stiffy with a mind of its own and no porn or birds around to get off on. “Help me back to my room, eh? C’mon then, I’m not too heavy.”

2D, ever eager to help, quickly dropped the ring buoy in the sand and came back over to Murdoc’s side, his spidery arms sliding under the bassists torso with such care that Murdoc almost felt bad for what he was planning to do. After a couple long, long minutes of slipping and sliding in 2D’s strong (weak) hold, the singer was able to wrestle the bassist back to his own hut and onto his bed, flat on his back. 

“Christ, Muds, you’re heavy!” 2D exclaimed once he’d finally gotten the man in question settled, one large hand reaching up to brush back sweat-soaked blue hair from his forehead as he looked down at the bassist. Murdoc grunted defensively, peering up at 2D with his one red eye cracked open. 

“Ey, now, I had to carry your vegetable arse for aaaages, never ‘eard me complain, did ya now?” Murdoc retorted, both eyes open now and narrowed in 2D’s direction. 2D’s face immediately transformed into that apologetic look Murdoc loathed so deeply, his shoulders slouching and his eyes dropping away from Murdoc’s gaze. It seemed 2D never realized that he was in no state to hear Murdoc's complaints when the bassist was forced to carry him as he was, quite deeply, in a comatose state. 

“I’m sorry, Muds, I di’nt mean it-”

“Now, now, stop all your crying, right? _You're_ no longer in a coma, _I_ no longer have to carry your sorry arse around everywhere, it's a win-win situation, mate." Murdoc said, successfully cutting off any chance of tears that the dullard could’ve conjured up. 2D immediately brightened, sunshine taking place where his smile was as he looked down at the bassist. 

“You’ right! Sorry abou’ that, Murdoc.” 2D said, his pale cheeks having reddened in embarrassment. The idiot actually had the nerve to look sheepish about what he’d said, despite having not really done anything at all. 

“I’s alright, dents,” Murdoc assured, relaxing back against the pillows and allowing his eyes to slip closed once more. “Why don’t you keep Uncle Murdoc company for a bit, yeah? Make sure I don’t die in my sleep, and all that,” Murdoc knew he was being excessively dramatic, having sustained a few displaced discs in his spine at most, but he also was well aware that 2D wasn’t the best on gouging the difference between serious, and, well, anything else. 

“Don’ say that,” 2D chastised, his grin having fallen at the thought of losing his best mate. He hopelessly adored Murdoc, no matter how abusive the bassist was towards him, and was oddly proud in the fact that he quite literally _needed_ him. He’d grown so used to being around Murdoc every second of every day, that he found it hard to imagine his natural-born life _without_ him. “But alright. W-where should I sit?” 2D questioned, black orbs gazing around the small room nervously as the only other pieces of furniture in the room aside from the twin bed consisted of a nightstand, table lamp, and a mini fridge to hold all of Murdoc’s alcoholic beverages. 

“Why not next to me, eh? Probably won’t bite you, but ‘m not gonna make any promises.” Murdoc trailed off, eyes squeezing closed once more as he forced his body to shift over a bit to allow 2D a bit more room. The bed certainly wasn’t that of his Winnebago, as it lacked in both the style and the firmness that the other bed held, but it would have to work, Murdoc presumed. It was small enough that 2D was forced to have at least some skin on skin contact with the bassist, no matter how small he tried to make himself on his limited space of the bed. 

For a while, it was silent, neither male knowing quite what to say, but unwilling to fall asleep just the same. Shockingly, 2D, the little surprise, broke the silence first. 

“Muds,” the bassist fought back a roll of his eyes at the pitiful way 2D said that idiotic nickname he’d come up with, knowing exactly what was about to come out of his singers mouth. “I-I know we ‘aven’t, well, _talked_ about it, but I was jus’, jus’ wonderin’ y’know, the other night, up on the roof, yeah? Well, I dun’ know if you remember but we, well, we kinda _kissed_ , right? And I was jus’ wonderin’ if you, maybe could’ve jus’, happened to want to, like, _talk_ about it? Becos, well, I don’t really know how _serious_ you were abou’ it, and I guess I jus’, well I jus’ wanna _know_.” 

A child could have spoken with more eloquence than 2D did. 

“Yes, I _rrrrrremember_ , dullard,” Murdoc responded, eyes sliding open only to finally release the roll he’d held in for the painfully long duration of 2D’s stuttered confession. “Can never let anything just _happen _, can you? Can’t say I’m surprised.”__

__2D realized quite quickly that by blabbing about his feelings, he may cause Murdoc to never want to kiss him again, and that was the last thing he wanted to do._ _

__“I take i’ back Mud’s, I’m sorry I jus’” 2D said, clearly scrambling for words he couldn’t string together in his jumbled head for a response that would placate the perpetually fuming bassist. “I quite liked it, is all.” Murdoc almost didn’t catch the last bit, 2D spoke it so quietly._ _

__“‘t was alright, I guess.” the Satanist responded nonchalantly, a light shrug gracing his shoulders that sent all kinds of pain down his spine. “Be a peach and get me a cigarette, would you?” The singer immediately tugged his pack out of his jeans alongside his lighter, his eyes half-lidded as he slid the cigarette between the bassists slightly parted lips. His large palms shook where they fumbled with the lighter, finally igniting the end of the cancer stick Murdoc took a deep drag from. “Cheers, dear.”_ _

__Even with his eyes closed, Murdoc could feel the weight of 2D’s gaze on him, all hot and heavy and suffocating in its unadulterated lust. He faintly heard a shaky breath escape the singers lungs as he willed everything within him not to smirk at the sound. It was almost unfair how easy it was for 2D to get all worked up, clearly even easier than Murdoc had initially thought it’d be._ _

__The next minute or so passed in silence, Murdoc allowing the cigarette to hang loosely between his lips when he wasn’t tugging a deep pull from it, with 2D’s lustful gaze trained on him all the while. There was something so masculine and _arousing_ about Murdoc in that state; shirtless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, bangs mused and hanging heavy over his eyes, chest constricting and releasing with every deep drag Murdoc pulled from the burning cigarette hanging between his lips. Somewhere within the empty cavern of 2D’s head, he reasoned that he should probably look _away_ from the very sight that had him so worked up, as he wasn’t sure how well Murdoc would take to discovering 2D’s ever growing stiffy popping up against his leg. _ _

__“See something you like, 2D?” Murdoc finally mumbled, voice raspy from the cigarette and a short period of disuse and sending all kinds of shivers through 2D’s thin frame. Despite seeing that Murdoc’s eyes were closed, and he couldn’t very well look at him, 2D nodded dumbly, black eyes lowering pitifully to the bed sheets. The bassist let out a grunt of acknowledgement, his natural intuition telling him that 2D had probably agreed in some physical form or another. The sound sent a tingle through 2D’s body, and along with it, a wild surge of confidence, as he found himself, horrifyingly, tugging the half-finished cigarette from Murdoc’s parted lips and replacing it with a kiss._ _

__Murdoc’s eyes flew open, the sheer shock of 2D’s confidence burst alarming him in ways he’d never known. He looked ahead to see 2D’s endless black orbs squeezed shut, his blue eyebrows having drawn together in concentration. The dullard hesitantly lifted his hands from their place on the bed to rest on either side of Murdoc’s shoulders as he planted one on him. Murdoc always knew he’d had pretty good luck, but this was luck at its _prime_. _ _

__Unknowingly, 2D had saved Murdoc a painful few minutes of sweet talking and vanilla caresses to get 2D to sleep with him, having skipped all that awful foreplay and gone straight to the point. Not dumb enough to refuse such an opportunity presented to him, Murdoc reacted quickly, one set of long fingers tugging what was left of his cigarette from 2D’s grip and chucking it on the floor before he gripped two full handfuls of plush, sky blue clouds and pulled._ _

__2D reacted immediately, the shiver that ran through his frame shaking the very strands of hair that Murdoc gripped so tightly. Ever impatient, the bassist allowed his hands to slide down, down, down 2D’s slim torso to grip on his bony hips, giving them an insistent tug to transmit the message of just how badly he wanted 2D perched on his lap. The singer, dimwitted as he may seem, was quick to understand and comply, mile-long legs moving to rest on either side of the bassists strictly shaped hips as 2D slowly lowered his covered groin down against the bulge in Murdoc’s jeans. The moan that slipped past 2D’s lips was quite pitiful, all high and needy and helpless and so bloody _desperate_ that Murdoc felt himself twitch within the confines of his trousers. _ _

__“2-dents,” Murdoc sucked in another deep, desperate kiss from his singer before continuing. “Listen, I can’t move very well right now, so you’re going to have to do most of the, _mmm, work_ , if you catch my drift.”_ _

__2D most definitely did catch Murdoc’s drift._ _

__“Muds, if we do this,” 2D started, cheeks flushed and skin hot to the touch where it pressed up against Murdoc’s. “Wots gonna happen tomorrow?”_ _

__“No, no, don’t go thinkin’ that far ahead, you’ll hurt yourself. Just let it happen, yeah? We’ll figure out the mechanics of it later.” Murdoc urged, one hand trailing around 2D’s slim hips to grip a full handful of round flesh that made up the singers right buttock. He always did enjoy looking at 2D’s pert arse, so much more full in comparison to the rest of his thin body. 2D let out a wanton moan, a noise so pact with arousal that Murdoc could tell his earlier worries were clearly forgotten as lust once again took the forefront of his mind._ _

__Seemingly unable to help himself, 2D sat back on Murdoc’s thighs, black-eyed gaze heavy as it remained trained on the bassists face, and before Murdoc was truly able to process what exactly was going on, 2D had removed his t-shirt, scrawny chest on full display and scattered with various droppings of blue chest hair as his nipples stood out on an otherwise white cavern, pink, proud and hard. 2D had the chest of a prepubescent girl, so there wasn’t really much to _look at_ up top, but being able to both see and _feel_ the singers growing erection against his own, separated only by a few layers of clothing, _well_. That certainly had him going. _ _

__The singer evidently realized that Murdoc wanted more clothing to be removed than just 2D’s flimsy top, and he quickly got to work on tugging down the impenetrable fabric that made up Murdoc’s jeans. Weighed down with the strain of his lust, Murdoc watched with a rose-tinted gaze as 2D slowly slid his body down Murdoc’s torso, eyes trained on his all the while. In the back of the bassists head, he wondered where exactly 2D had learned to become so lewd, so unadulterated in his arousal-driven pursuit to fuck, but the thought was quickly pushed away when all of a sudden, he felt a wet spot on his crotch that he definitely did not cause, thank you very much._ _

__Much like a pleased kitten with a bowl of milk, 2D mewled as he lapped at the bassists intimidatingly large bulge through his jeans, his flat tongue pressing hard against what lie beneath the Satanists trousers. Well, Murdoc certainly hadn’t been expecting _that_. _ _

__A surprised “Fuck, 2D,” slipped from Murdoc’s lips, eyebrows rising beneath a thick fringe as he looked down at his singer, currently mouthing around the bassists tip with what was left of his front teeth. Threading his fingers through 2D’s full strands, Murdoc gave an impatient tug, letting 2D know that while all that teasing was nice, he was _not in the mood_. 2D, surprisingly, got the message, his long and nimble fingers working down the zipper of the bassists jeans and unknowingly freeing the Satanists erection, which sprouted up to lightly smack him on the cheek. _ _

__“No knickers today, eh Muds?” 2D asked, accompanied with a shaky laugh that obviously displayed that his confidence had clearly been shaken as he eyed Murdoc’s length warily._ _

__“Never know when opportunity calls,” Murdoc responded flippantly, eyes still trained on 2D’s reddened face as he watched his singer take in the height of his arousal. A flash of heat flooded his gut, the awe-struck look on his singers face at the sight of his cock, _his_ , causing something within him to swell up to a new level of pride within the bassist that he’d never experienced before. “Get on with it, will you? Quit stallin’.”_ _

__Releasing one hand from the death grip 2D had on the waistline of Murdoc’s jeans, the singer blinked owlishly up at his best mate, his closest comrade, his _savior_. And he got on with it._ _

__2D leaned forward hesitantly, forcing his wide black orbs to remain open, to take in every reaction he could pull out of Murdoc and commit it all to the deepest pits of his memory bank. The singer wrapped his lips around the head of Murdoc’s erection, hollowing out his cheeks tentatively as his tongue pressed forward to snag a taste of the foreign complexity of his best mates cock in his mouth. Despite Murdoc’s eyebrows being deeply masked by the impenetrable fringe of hair that hung over them, 2D could see his mates face contorted in pleasure, mismatched eyes narrowed and pulled together as the bassists grip in his hair tightened. Fueled on by the mostly encouraging reaction he’d derived from Murdoc, 2D continued on, allowing his lips to slide lower, lower, lower down on Murdoc’s length before he felt the tip bump against his tonsils, causing him to gag with a start as his whole body jerked on the bed. Murdoc, however, refused to let up._ _

__“C’mon pet, you can take it,” he assured, baritone voice low and rough and sending all kinds of shivers down 2D’s spine. A gathering of tears had come together on the singers lower lid, glistening like snowflakes in the wintertime and shooting a fresh wave of arousal through the bassist. “Jus’ relax a bit, there you go.”_ _

__Slowly but surely, 2D’s tense frame began to relax, his hands loosening from the sudden grip they’d taken on Murdoc’s strictly shaped hips when he felt himself begin to gag. Murdoc eased 2D’s head downward once more with a firm grip in his blue strands, unrelenting in his pursuit to get 2D to take him all the way down his pretty little throat, tears or not. Feeling the strain of keeping his gaze on Murdoc’s face, 2D dropped his black eyes closed, allowing his eyelids to clench together as he forced himself to make room for Murdoc’s cock down his throat, bypassing his tonsils as he fought to repress his gag reflex. Saliva and tears ran freely down 2D’s face, and 2D felt himself flush all over with the _shame_ of it all; he knew damn well exactly how much of a mess he probably looked in that moment, having seen girls go through the very same routine with him as he was going through with Murdoc. If anything, though, Murdoc seemed to get even harder at the sight before him, 2D all helpless and flushed and so bloody _vulnerable_ that Murdoc had to tear his eyes away from the sight, throw his head back and call out to Satan so he wouldn’t shoot off right then and there. _ _

__A noise of surprise bumbled from 2D’s lips at the foreign feeling of Murdoc buried deep within his throat, the sensation so strange and alien and arousing at the same time. 2D had begun to get light headed at the overflow of emotions running through him. The singer timidly allowed the muscles of his throat to constrict and release around Murdoc’s stiff length, gaining quite a loud noise of approval from the bassist as he did so. Forcing his face all the way down, 2D found his lips pressed flush against the skin and spatterings of hair around Murdoc’s groin, his nose deeply inhaling the manly musk that resided there. Even his crotch smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and bad decisions. 2D couldn’t get enough of it._ _

__“Fuck, two dents, who taught you to do that, eh?” Murdoc grumbled, morbidly curious and unbearably aroused at the same time. A helpless noise rumbled from 2D’s throat that travelled all throughout Murdoc’s cock, the bassist groaning in inescapable pleasure as it ran through him. “Alright, alright, come up, come here.” Murdoc insisted, feeling the all too familiar tightening in his abdomen that signaled a release he wasn’t ready to allow just yet. 2D listened obediently, dragging his mouth up and off of Murdoc, a distressed cough following the action as he lifted one hand up to rub at his throat. It felt raw, like he’d been screaming for hours on end, but 2D reveled in the tinge of pain it brought, a reminder of what exactly he’d been doing with Murdoc, something he could’ve only hoped for in his wildest dreams._ _

__Murdoc, ever impatient, gripped the blue-haired singers cheeks and tugged his reddened face up towards his own for a passionate kiss, the Satanists dual-colored eyes squeezing shut as he pressed as much of his appreciation into the embrace as he could. 2D could only whimper at the intensity that Murdoc was sending his way, his large palms shaking where they reached up to grip the bassists hips and scratch lightly with blunt fingernails. Another grasping hand at his arse reminded 2D that he was still very much clothed, his jeans digging painfully into his hips where they pressed against Murdoc’s torso. The singer could only lie back and watch with mild amusement and awe as Murdoc flipped him onto his back, making such quick work of removing his skinny jeans that, somehow, still managed to remain loose on his thin frame that made 2D’s head spin a bit._ _

__Finally freed of the captivating fabric that had previously enclosed his slim legs, the singer let out a euphoric sigh, his back arching up and off of the bed as he tossed his spidery arms loosely around the shoulders of his savior, tugging down his warm frame to press as close against his own as he could manage. It was more intimate than Murdoc was used to, and despite his first instinct being to shake 2D _off_ of him, he fought and suppressed it with all his might, instead channeling his frustrations into the bone-crushing grip he had on the singers slim hips. He was sure he’d leave bruises, but judging by the noise that had escaped 2D’s lips, the singer wouldn’t mind. The bassist pulled back from the kiss he’d had 2D captured in to admire his handiwork; 2D was positively _glowing_ , with his skin flushed from head to toe, his wide black eyes glistening with arousal and adoration and lips parted and plump and shimmering with a combination of their saliva. Yeah, he’d save the whole foreplay ordeal for another time, then. _ _

__Alive with sensation and a stiffy harder than rock, Murdoc found himself no longer immobile from pain, though it still hung around like a storm cloud, just out of his peripheral, but there none the less. The feline crouch he had over 2D’s sprawled out body would have to be saved for another time, he mused, as his back was protesting, and quite loudly. Slinking off of the singer with a groan that conveyed the depths of his displeasure, Murdoc collapsed on the space next to 2D, skin moist with the effort of his exertions as he breathed out a sigh._ _

__“Sorry, mate, you’ll have to take the reigns from here,” Murdoc apologized, though he did so in the most uninterested tone he could muster up, his dual-colored gaze trained on the ceiling above him as his lungs worked to breath in as much oxygen as they could. “If you’re looking for a, well, _smooth sailing_ , you’ll have to head over in my bag.” Confusion overtook the dimwitted singers features, his chest still heaving from their kiss, before he finally was able to derive from Murdoc’s metaphor what he was really trying to say. Scrambling off of the bed at an admirable speed, naked glistening frame and all, 2D crouched down before Murdoc’s suitcase, his erection bouncing hard and insistent between his legs as he finally tugged out the small, travel sized bottle of lubricant that 2D couldn’t help but wonder the origin of. Dismissing the thought from his mind before it could grow and develop into an idea that would surely prevent him from being able to focus on the task at hand, 2D clambered back over to the bed, his mile-long legs straddling the bassists strictly shaped hips as he took ahold of the other males erection within his large, slicked palm. A low grunt resonated throughout Murdoc’s chest, his discolored eyes flitting back and forth between the hazy expression on 2D’s face and the way he looked gripped within the singers hand. Once 2D had slickened him up to what he saw fit, the singer chucked the bottle somewhere within Murdoc’s room, a faint clatter resonating throughout the area as it met the wooden floor of the hut. Despite the overpowering lust that overtook most of 2D’s features, Murdoc could still see a trace of nervousness; 2D had been gnawing down on his lower lip, something he only did when his anxiety was creeping up his spine insistently._ _

__“Relax, Tusspot, or you’ll make this a lot harder than it needs to be,” Murdoc insisted, thumbs massaging invisible circles onto the smooth skin where his palms gripped the singers slim hips. 2D shivered at the notion, tugging at his lower lip with what was left of his front teeth before releasing the abused flesh altogether. With a nod of uncertainty, 2D held Murdoc tightly within his palm, his hips slowly lowering down as his body began to work around the sudden intrusion that he was gripping oh so hard. A sharp gasp escaped 2D’s lips, paired with a whimper so pitiful that Murdoc almost felt bad for the overwhelmed singer._ _

__“Oh no, Muds, I-I _can’_ ” 2D whined, though he made no move to slide off of the half of Murdoc’s erection that was already pressed deeply inside of him. There was the familiar twist of discomfort on the singers face as he, despite his words, removed his hand where it was still wrapped around Murdoc, and cautiously worked his hips in a manner that had Murdoc’s eyes nearly popping out of his head. _ _

__“You’re taking it _mighty_ fine, dents, don’t worry,” Murdoc insisted, a bit of his own exhaustion leaking into his breathless tone as he looked up at his singer, halfway impaled on his own length and flushed from head to toe. The sight was downright pornographic. “Don’t stop, though.” _ _

__Seemingly fueled by the snippet of appreciation, 2D nodded, dug his fingernails into the sides of the bassists torso, and dropped his hips down until they sat flush against Murdoc’s own. A noise so packed with both pain and euphoria resonated throughout the room, having crawled its way up from the depths of the singers lungs and spewed out across Murdoc like a ray of sun. The grip Murdoc had on the bluenette’s hips tightened tenfold. If 2D had been reddened before, he was absolutely scarlet now, his cheeks such a vibrant shade of red that he was practically _burning_ with it. For a while, 2D just sat there, long legs twisted at his sides, fingers nestled within the bassists ribcage, with his hips pressed flush against Murdoc’s. Then, timidly, the singer lifted his bony hips, teeth biting down on his lower lip once more, before he dropped them back where they began._ _

__The singer pushed out a choked noise, one that made Murdoc’s blood run hot with the desperation of it. Unable to keep still with such a visage before him, the bassist lifted his hands from 2D’s hips, curling them around the singers waist to grip at his arse and tug him further down on his own erection once more, his tongue spilling out from between his thin lips to flick suggestively in 2D’s direction. The singer in question was far too out of it to notice, his black orbs half-lidded and aimed at the ceiling as his skin broke out in a light sweat, his body now moving with ease up and down against Murdoc’s as he repetitively impaled himself on his best mate. The gasping noises he released had Murdoc’s head in a floozy, his body so overheated and overstimulated he thought he might have a heart attack, then and there. Despite the determination on the singers face, he was moving _much_ too slow for the bassist, an issue he planned to resolve quickly, if he wanted to last another minute, that is. _ _

__“Hop off it, dents, I wanna try something,” Murdoc announced, voice strained and raspy and rough and all the things 2D loved so very much. Through his haze of lust, 2D dully comprehended the other males words, a whine of disapproval escaping from his parted lips before he unhappily complied. Lifting himself up and off of Murdoc’s hips, he found himself blushing all over again at the distinct _pop_ that resonated throughout the small room as Murdoc slid out of him. The bassist only grinned lecherously, licking his serpent's tongue over his pointed teeth before he forced himself to sit up, despite the cracking noises his back gave off in the process. 2D had half a mind to reprimand Murdoc for moving so carelessly after enduring such an injury, but it was just that: a half. “Hands and knees, love,” the singer hastily obeyed, pushing the tinge of pain he felt in his nether regions to the back of his mind as he did so. The position left him so vulnerable, so open and exposed to the bassists wondering gaze that he practically felt nauseous with it, but all the protest he provided was the fresh wave of redness that darkened his features. _ _

__He felt, rather than saw, Murdoc slink up behind him, heavy hands having found a home once again on the singers slim hips as the bassist tugged them back against his own. Murdoc ground his heavy erection slowly against 2D’s parted cheeks, relishing in the choked noise of desperation that slid out from the singers lips._ _

__Pumped full with morbid curiosity, 2D couldn’t help but wonder, was _this_ why Murdoc could pull birds so easily? Did they receive the same thrill 2D felt when he was lying beneath Murdoc, all sweaty and fucked out of his very mind? Did they enjoy basking in the shame and _humiliation_ of it all quite like 2D did?_ _

__The singer wasn’t left much time to ponder after that, as Murdoc, quite abruptly, shoved himself back inside the singer to the hilt and released a moan so filthy 2D felt his skin blacken with the sin of it. 2D didn’t have time to release his own noise of approval, as Murdoc started the pace off fast and rough, his hips bumping up against the singers with enough force to cause his body to rock back and forth with the motion of it all. 2D was left gasping for air, his body and mind so overstimulated that for a second, when the all-too familiar tightening of his throat came around, he feared he may actually cry in front of the bassist. Not from pain, not from discomfort, but from the all-encompassing _pleasure_ Murdoc was sending his way; the bassist had never been one to hold back, and it seemed that this trait held true in the bedroom as well. _ _

__Unable to help himself, 2D shoved what was left of his top teeth into his bottom lip to try and muffle at least _some_ of his noises, he sounded like a bloody street whore the way he was crying out and writhing beneath Murdoc. The bassist was having none of that, it seemed, as 2D felt the older man abruptly grab his jaw in a death grip that forced 2D to released his abused bottom lip from the confines of his teeth. “I wanna hear you, pet, don’t hold back from me,” Oh, bugger. Like he wasn’t overstimulated enough by the bassists words, he had to go and shove himself right up against the younger males prostate, causing 2D to sob out a cry in response as he gripped himself in a tight, shaky fist, breathed in deeply, and came all over the sheets below him, tipping over the edge, headfirst. “Oh, dents,” Murdoc couldn’t help but follow the frail man beneath him over the edge, his nails digging into the supple flesh of his hips as he came inside him with a low, raspy sound that caused 2D to weakly spurt out what was left of the fluids inside him. _ _

__Pain once again creeped its way up Murdoc’s spine, the adrenaline thrill of the rush now all but gone as he collapsed weakly against the bed once more. He felt, rather than saw, 2D’s arms and legs give out below him, his body collapsing in a puddle of his own waste. A noise of disapproval rang through the singers lungs, but it seemed he was far too tired to move himself away from the mess that lay beneath him. What felt like hours was merely only a few minutes, spent with the bassist and singer working to function their lungs properly once more, hearts insistently pumping in their throats. To Murdoc’s surprise, 2D was the first to speak._ _

__“We’ve got to fly back tom’row,” 2D mumbled lazily into the pillow his face was mashed into, his back rising and falling steadily now, though his skin still shone with a sheen of sweat that glistened like a thousand diamonds. Murdoc grunted in return, eyes shut as his face twisted up into a grimace._ _

__“You worry so much about the future, dents,” Murdoc chastised, hand splaying out to the side of him to tug out two cigarettes as he made quick work of lighting them and passing one over to his exhausted singer. “We’ll be on the bloody plane.”_ _

__“I know, I know,” 2D quickly replied, fingers gratefully wrapping around the cigarette Murdoc offered to him as he took a deep drag before continuing. “I’s jus’ so soon, is all. Like, I don’ wanna leave, y’know? We’ve got it so… _good_ ‘ere. _We’re_ good ‘ere.” _ _

__It was a surprisingly intelligent comment from a singer who was half out of his mind with exhaustion and frequently doped up on painkillers. Murdoc’s eyebrows rose beneath his fringe, his body having rolled over onto it’s side to look closely at 2D’s relaxed features. His cigarette hung all but forgotten between his pointed teeth, and just when he had conjured up the idea of smacking the singer upside the head to shake off the dazed look he had in his black orbs, 2D smiled at him and illuminated the room. He’d hit him later, he told himself, as he instead strung an arm around the singers waist, chucked the cigarette from his mouth away, and breathed in a slow, warm, lazy kiss._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noodle needs some legal certification. It's much harder than it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went back over the previous two chapters and fixed the italics on them. I'm not cut out for all this HTML business. But, I'm excited to say that there's some Russel and Noodle appearances in this chapter! I tried to make it very light hearted, as the last chapter was quite, well, intense, if you catch my drift. It's a bit shorter than my usual chapter length, but I know it can tend to get annoying having to read chapters over 6000 words, so I apologize. Trust me, there will be a lot more of Noods and Russ than just this little snippet. Enjoy!

Noodle came as a surprise.

A nice surprise, one that all of the band members came to love and adore over the years, but a shock nonetheless. What was thought to be a pesky rodent making noise in a large box had turned out to be an actual _human_ , one that was absolutely mental on guitar as well. And, despite Murdoc’s initial reluctance to take in a child that had no return label or knowledge of the English language, the bassist did so eventually, a decision he would always respect himself for making. Murdoc always thought of Noodle as a gift, sent from whoever, _wherever_ , but a gift he, Russel, and 2D were in no place to refuse. 

There are always legal concerns when a child comes out of the blue and, quite literally, pops up on your doorstep, with no birth certificate, legal identification, or ability to converse with anyone around her, thanks to the whopping language barrier that sat between the small girl and the three men she found herself in the care of. Russel, stick in the mud that he was, demanded that Murdoc open up an account for Noodle and split the earnings of the band four ways now, instead of three, as the girl rightfully deserved to make a part of whatever the band did. The only issue was: how can you open an account for someone without an identity?

“For the last time, brainache, she’s not going to take your bloody last name. Noodle Pot? Are you _trying_ to set her up for a lifetime of bullying and humiliation?” 

The issue was far more difficult than it originally seemed.

“Muds, why not,” 2D whined, folding his large hands together as he whimpered at the bassist. The trio had been in the kitchen for at least an hour, battering back and forth over if Noodle should take 2D’s last name or Russel’s. Murdoc had kindly left his off of the table. He didn’t claim the kids he legally fathered, let alone one that just happened to _show up_. “It sounds so cute! She’d love it.”

Russel, seemingly fed up with the singers lack of understanding, huffed audibly and placed his head in his meaty palms. “‘D, man, you really are setting Noodle up. The girl will never hear the end of it,” Russel said. Always the logic of the group.

“Well, why don’ we jus’ leave it as Noodle? Does she _need_ a last name?” 2D questioned dumbly, black orbs blinking in Russel’s direction with childlike innocence.

“What, you want her to be bloody _Madonna_?” Murdoc spat, rolling his eyes as he lifted one hand to smack the singer upside the back of the head. He felt Russel’s eyes narrowed in his direction, though he paid it no mind. “Yes, she needs a last name. We’ll have to put all this on paper, dents: birth certificate, National Insurance number, bank account, album contributors list. All of this is on a first and last name basis.” There was a pause as the two other men mulled this over, Russel giving a huff in agreement.

“Noodle Hobbs sounds just fine to me,” the drummer finally murmured, his tone defensive as he sat back in his chair and leveled Murdoc’s murderous glare. 

“Sounds like she’s fucking _disabled_!” Murdoc finally erupted, thick veins in his neck popping out as his red eye flared. 2D, instinctively, shrank back in his char, long arms wrapping themselves around his knees as he drew them against his chest. “Bad enough that _you’ve_ got stuck with a last name that _shit_ , why would you want to give it to her?” A warning sound rumbled throughout the drummers chest, one that 2D shivered at the sound of, though Murdoc disregarded it altogether. 

“Fuck you, man. What do _you_ want her name to be, then?” Russel questioned, crossing thick arms across his chest as he lifted his chin indignantly in the direction of the bassist. “Let me guess, you want her to take your last name.”

“No,” Murdoc was quick to respond, shaking his head as his fingers wrapped themselves around his inverted cross. “I won’t even let the kids I _do_ have take my last name. Niccals isn’t just given, it’s _earned_ , tubbers.” 

“Noodle Niccals,” the singer piped up, causing both men to turn their heads in his direction. The smile that spread across his face caused a wave of unease to run through Murdoc’s veins. “I love it!”

“Do you?” Murdoc questioned, tone full of sarcasm. “That’s just bloody _great_ , isn’t it?”

“As much as it pains me to admit this, it doesn’t sound half bad, Murdoc,” Russel piped up honestly, eyebrows raised slightly in amazement. Perhaps it was the reddened tone that his face had taken on, but Russel couldn’t help but smile at Murdoc’s obvious discomfort. “Besides, that little girl works hard as hell. You really don’t think she’s ‘ _earned_ ’ the Niccals name? Not like you ever do shit anyway,” Russel trailed off under his breath, his speech turning into an irritated grumble as he shook his head at Murdoc. “Don’t be so selfish, man.”

Murdoc’s blood boiled. He was horrified to realize that, truthfully, Noodle Niccals sounded bloody _brilliant_ , proper rockstar title and everything. It felt like his veins flooded with ice water as he thought about passing his last name off onto a child that he was legally to be taking care of: was he ready to have a legitimate adopted daughter? Was he ready to go to court and get custody of a little Japanese girl with a pension for warming hearts with her smile and destroying amps with her skill? 

Finally, finally, Murdoc put his head in his hands, placed his elbows on the dirty kitchen table before him, and allowed his eyes to slip closed as he shook his head.

“Fuck me,” the bassist murmured, speaking more to the table than to the two smiling men sitting around him. “Noodle Niccals it is, then.”

x

“Right then,” Murdoc began, clearing his throat and narrowing his eyes at the script Russel had written for him as he held out before himself. “I, Murdoc Faust Niccals, am requesting custody of, er, this little sprog here,” he motioned to Noodle, who was sitting happily beside where he stood and grinning up at him like she knew _exactly_ how much pain she was currently causing him. Sometimes, Murdoc believed that Noodle understood more English than she let on. “Name’s Noodle Niccals, cos she’s gonna be my...next of kin, and all that.” The word daughter was too hard to force out. He could feel the eyes of 2D and Russel on him, sitting in the pews behind him in the courtroom, hanging on to every word the bassist was saying. 

Was Murdoc going crazy, or was his tie suddenly getting tighter?

“Let me get this straight,” the judge began. Oh, bugger; it was the same judge he’d dealt with when he’d got the verdict on his case with denthead while he was in a Murdoc-induced coma. The woman was clearly unhappy to meet with him again. “You, a man with a criminal record longer than the New Testament, would like to have custody of a young Japanese girl with no knowledge of the English language? Could you possibly have forgotten the _last_ time you had custody of someone?” Of course Murdoc hadn’t forgotten, the idiot was sitting right behind him, looking nervous as all get out and sweating bullets. He could practically _hear_ 2D’s hands twitching. 

“Of course not; if you’d just look around, _your honor_ , you’d see that Stuart Pot sits before your very eyes.” Murdoc said, stepping to the side and swinging an arm out in 2D’s general direction. The judge took in an audible gasp, eyes widening as she came to realize that yes, it was the very same blue-haired idiot, except now with two black, and very wide open, eyes, instead of the dusty grey they’d once been. A momentary flash of horror took over her features; 2D was used to receiving such looks, though. Came with being 6’2, blue-haired and black-eyed. Almost as quickly as the look had come, it was gone once more, the judge having had composed her features, plastering on a bright, albeit fake, smile, and sending it in 2D’s direction. 

“Oh, Mr. Pot, excuse my ignorance!” Well, she’d certainly changed her tune _very_ quickly. “It’s so nice to see you again, alive and...well!” The apprehension behind the word ‘well’ was almost palpable; clearly, the judge did not take to 2D’s black eyes as easily as Murdoc had. Blushing like a schoolgirl caught passing notes in class, 2D bashfully lowered his gaze to his lap, his hands twisting around themselves there as he gave a soft shrug of his shoulders. Murdoc couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, 2D was so bloody _feminine_ sometimes, it was quite ridiculous. 

“Fanks, Judge Turner,” the singer responded kindly, looking up once more and shooting her a wide, gap-toothed smile. The judge visibly blanched at the sight, or _lack_ thereof, of Stuart Pot’s front teeth. “I’ve been livin’ wif Murdoc since, well, ‘97! ‘nd he’s been jus’ great to me, really! Saved my life!”

The judge was shocked into silence by 2D’s confession. Clearly, the boy was a bit thicker than she’d originally remembered hearing him to be. 

“Well...thank you for that, Mr. Pot,” The woman said, adjusting the thin wire frames of her glasses as she averted her gaze from 2D’s black orbs to the papers sat before her. She felt her skin crawl the longer she looked at him. “Mr. Niccals, do you have any proof of her identity?” A shake of his head sent his black fringe swaying. “Any word on where her parents may be?” Another shot in the dark. “Any known relatives, guardians, friends? _Anyone_ beside you lot?” This woman clearly didn’t grasp the situation.

“Listen, lady,” Murdoc began, annoyed by the litany of questions that he believed himself to have already answered. “I told you. Little horror popped out of a FedEx crate on the door to my studio with a Les Paul and a radio helmet. No return label, just a bunch of foreign stamps all over the crate. Nothing was in the box but Noodle, her guitar, and an amp. There was no paperwork anywhere.”

“May I ask if she was intended to be a mail-order bride, Mr. Niccals?” The judge questioned warily, terrified of the answer she may receive.

“For the _last bloody time_ , no!” Murdoc erupted, hands clenching in fists by his sides. Noodle, seemingly alarmed to see one of her caretakers so riled up, tentatively reached up and stroked his forearm softly. He had half a mind to swat her away, though decided against it upon meeting the judge’s scrutinizing gaze. “Placed a magazine ad for a new guitarist, this little one popped up. _End of story_.” Noodle’s little hand had wrapped itself around the sleeve of Murdoc’s black sweater as she began tugging insistently, blinking repetitively up at him. Murdoc stole a gaze down at her, noticing the worried expression her face had taken on, her green eyes shining with the threat of oncoming tears. Turning back up to the judge, Murdoc released a heavy sigh that carried the weight of the world, his arms opening to allow young Noodle to crawl up into them as she buried her face against his neck and whimpered. “Request for a 30 minute recess, your _highness_.” 

Despite the roll of her eyes, the judge complied, lifting the gravel and banging it back down as she spoke, “Request granted. Attendees to return to courtroom in 30 minutes. Courtroom dismissed.”

Turning around to face 2D and Russel, Murdoc took note of the concerned looks on either of their faces; Murdoc rarely ever held Noodle, no matter how upset she was when she came to him for comfort. The bassist grunted, adjusting his hold on her as he walked over to where the other two members stood, leaning over the pew. “Sprog looked like she was about to bloody cry, Satan. Here, _you_ take her Russ; Denthead and I are going for a smoke.” Russel was more than happy to slide the little girl from Murdoc’s hold, his large arms encircling her small frame as he sat back down and whispered words of comfort to her. Noodle was surprisingly good at detecting conflict, and it seemed that the tension of the courtroom had gotten far too much for the poor girl. The drummer was extraordinarily good with her, god knows why, but it was something Murdoc was eternally grateful for. 

2D practically tripped over his own long legs in his haste to catch up with Murdoc who had, somehow, managed to slip through the doors of the courtroom at a speed 2D had never known him capable of achieving. The singer finally find him out front, leaning against the brick wall of the courthouse and hastily dragging deep inhales from his burning cigarette. 2D was quick to light up with him, standing before him and running his black-eyed gaze over the bassists features worriedly. 

“Muds, d’ya think they’ll let us keep Noodle?” the singer asked, eyes wide with apprehension. Murdoc could only offer a lame shrug in return, tugging one more pull from the cigarette he was holding before he was finished with it. Scrapping the filter, he was quick to tug out a new one, his nerves threatening to get the best of him. 

“They should,” Murdoc said, venom in his tone as he hatefully spat on the concrete steps of the courthouse. “If they don’t let us have her, they’ll probably just try and shove her in some adoption house where she’ll get shipped into a family of sickos who only want her to claim they’ve got a foreign child in the household. Monsters, the lot of them. She’s rightfully _ours_ ; she was shipped specifically _to_ us, _for_ us, no one else. Those bastards can shove one up their-”

“You think fate brought Noodle to us, Murdoc?” 2D questioned, airheaded hippie that he was. The bassist scoffed, rolling his eyes at the sky above them. It was a rainy day, though for the moment, the moisture had stopped, leaving behind ominous storm clouds and a permanent grey tinge to the city. It seemed as if since Murdoc hadn’t answered 2D’s question, God decided to step in and do it for him: a loud clap of thunder resonating through the trees and their very bones. 2D flinched. 

“Who knows,” Murdoc responded, bitterness dissolved from his tone and leaving him with a weary sigh. “If they don’t give her to us, we’ll bloody _take_ her if we need to. I’ve never been opposed to taking what should be mine.”

“Heh, like the keyboards in Uncle Norm’s, eh, Muds?” 2D asked playfully, face splitting into a goofy grin as a small laugh escaped him. How the singer could talk so lightly about the event that, literally, knocked his teeth out and turned his eyes black, was beyond Murdoc. It was better that than bitterness, though, as Murdoc always feared the singer would harbor towards him. 

“Yes, like sodding keyboards in Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium,” Murdoc responded, a grin tugging at the corners of his perpetually down turned mouth as he took a step closer to his singer. The clouds suddenly seemed to ease up a bit, unleashing the smallest shred of sunlight that illuminated Murdoc’s gleaming red eye, spot on. A halo appeared around 2D’s head of spiky blue hair. “ _And_ the Saturday boy that worked there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always loved the idea of Noodle taking Murdoc's last name, I don't know why. It's ridiculously cute to me. Also, I probably messed up the whole courtroom scene beyond belief, as I know nothing about _any_ of that, but I hope it wasn't too unbearable. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologize enough for not updating this sooner! These past few weeks have been a whirlwind, one that I unfortunately got myself all caught up in. However, I could never leave such a great crowd of people hanging. Thank you again for all your continuous support and comments, I really cannot express how happy they make me! Without further disruption here's chapter four!

“If you touch me one more time, Stu, I may actually tear your hand off with my bare teeth.”

Withdrawal is a scary thing.

2D learned this firsthand, back before the band had really formed, when he and Murdoc were still living together in Murdoc’s sad excuse for an apartment, existence dependent upon cigarettes, saltines, and cheap beer. When times were simpler, but even harder, all at once. When Murdoc was still dealing with tremors and stutters and the shakes as repercussions of his nasty speed addiction. Although in the end, it wasn’t 2D that convinced him to kick the habit, it was Murdoc himself. Though his reasons may have not always seemed clear, there was rationale behind why 2D adored Murdoc so hopelessly. The singer admired him because he was determined, so much so that he’d sacrifice anything and anyone necessary to achieve whatever goal he’d set his two-toned eyes upon.

Still, it wasn’t easy watching, and waiting, and watching some more, as Murdoc puked and screamed and went through convulsions that sent 2D’s blood running cold. It scared the living shit out of him, seeing a man who was so strong, so _unbreakable_ , crumble down into nothing but a miserable junkie.

And yet, the concern remained, despite all of Murdoc’s venomous threats and countless beatings. It was in the singers kind nature, whether he liked it or not.

“Muds, you’re burning up,” 2D whined, crouched low beside the bassist who lie trembling on the floor. He’d been in and out of his position for over an hour, leaving only to go refresh the cloth he repeatedly dabbed against Murdoc’s burning forehead. It was the first time he’d ever seen the bassists eyebrows. He didn’t even know he had any. “Don’t make me leave, I wanna help.”

For a second, it seemed like Murdoc was going to retaliate, whip up and thwack him upside the head like he used to, when he was still on speed and drinking and shooting up and, somehow, functioning. Instead, he audibly took in a deep breath, muscles tense and skin drawn tight over bone, before he simply exhaled and slouched back against the floor. It was quite pathetic how 2D prayed for the routine abuse back; he wished for anything that could remind him that inside the trembling man before him, Murdoc Niccals still existed.

“D’ya wanna try again an’ eat sumfink?” A visible shudder raked through the man on the floor, the simple thought of consuming anything solid causing a wave of nausea to run through him. Try as he might, the urge to vomit rose regardless of his attempts to swallow it back down. The bassist barely choked out a command to 2D to grab the soiled trash can on the floor beside him before he was hacking what was left of his insides into it. The singer could only sit back and watch, horrified, as Murdoc gagged and spat and coughed and made sounds that 2D didn’t know the human body was allowed to make. It was all bile; Murdoc had nothing left in his system to spew out.

Another few painful moments of dry heaving later, the bassist collapsed, boneless and weary, back onto the cool hardwood floor beneath him, a few spattered specks of his own toxic waste polluting his bare chest.

“Murdoc, please,” 2D sounded quite pitiful, all helpless and useless and worried beyond belief. A weak chuckle resonated from within the bassists chest, the man in question scarily resembling a stagnant corpse as he worked to regain his breath. Determined, the singer suddenly began to crawl over to him, his large palms carefully setting the putrid trash can aside as he made a grab for Murdoc. Too weak and tired to protest, Murdoc allowed himself to be hoisted up into the singers frail hold, his arms lifted to accommodate for 2D’s large hands beneath his sweaty armpits. “We’re gonna shower again, a’right?” Wasn’t like Murdoc was in any place to refuse such care, anyway.

The bassists shirt had been discarded hours ago, so all 2D had to worry about removing was Murdoc’s sweat-laden jeans, which he made quick work of taking off. Despite Murdoc’s obviously wilted condition, the singer was still bashful enough to blush upon seeing Murdoc bare before him, save for the tight y-fronts that looked like they could use a healthy wash. Several minutes later of hoisting, lifting, panting and swearing and sweating, the singer was able to wrestle Murdoc into the dirty porcelain tub, properly propped up on the back of the bin and everything. An accomplishment he was quite proud of, considering Murdoc was considerably heavier than anything he had ever attempted to lift.

“‘m gonna rinse you off now, mkay? Don’ worry,” 2D said, tone surprisingly soft and touch even softer as he ran his fingers over Murdoc’s sweaty cheek. He received a grunt of acknowledgement. More than he was hoping for in the first place, really. The lukewarm spray of water over his frame was much like an electric jolt to the bassist, his eyes shooting open and his body jolting with the shock of it. He found himself shaking where he gripped the edges of the tub, heart racing a mile a minute, thoughts going even faster. 2D was quick to react, leaning completely over the bassist and successfully drenching himself (fully clothed) in the process of comforting Murdoc. His favorite t-shirt stuck to his chest uncomfortably, his blue hair dripped in his eyes, clouding his already poor vision, but he didn’t mind. Murdoc was to come first, always. No matter what. “It’s alrigh’ Muds, I promise. You jus’ gotta relax, right? Jus’ sit back, I’ll do it,” Even in his high-pitched, warbly voice, 2D sounded more mature than Murdoc had ever heard him to be. “I’ll take care of ya.”

 

x

 

2D woke to the sound of glass breaking. Immediately, he jumped out of bed, his long legs tripping over one another as he ran to find the source of the commotion. Wasn’t like he was having an exactly peaceful night of sleep, anyway. He hadn’t since before all this had began.

He found Murdoc in the poor excuse for a main room, wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants that were two sizes too small (as they belonged to 2D, but the singer didn’t mind sacrificing his favorite pair of PJ pants to someone who he believed needed them more than he did) and hunched over the couch. His bare torso was visibly heaving, wild, sporadic movements that sent a shot of ice water through 2D’s veins.

The delirium tremens were the worst. It was hard for the poor singer to determine the severity of the seizure, and it wasn’t like Murdoc was going to jump at the chance to tell him when he needed help. Upon slipping in a puddle of honey brown liquid, 2D derived the commotion must have come from the shattered bottle of Jack Daniels which lie in pieces before his feet. Carefully navigating around the mess of shattered glass, 2D took Murdoc into his arms, his bare chest pressed against that of his best mates as he worked to sooth the bassist who continued to tremble with uncontrollable spasms. A pitiful squeak of pain forced it’s way through Murdoc’s sealed lips, his hands flying to scratch without fruition at 2D’s bare back. The singer could feel the skin as it was peeled from his back, but adrenaline allowed him to ignore the pain, his grip only tightening around Murdoc’s shoulders in response to the abuse.

Gradually, as they always did, the seizures wore the bassist out, his sweat-soaked frame slowly going lax in the singers grasp as his eyelids fluttered dangerously. 2D was always careful with him like this, following a seizure. His long arms cradled Murdoc against his chest carefully, his words feather light as they smoothed over the half-conscious bassist, ultimately lulling into a dreamless sleep. Logically knowing that there was no way in hell he’d ever be able to carry Murdoc back to his bedroom, 2D instead dragged him slowly across the hardwood floors as he’d done earlier, back to his own room. The mattress was on the floor, anyway. Made things easier for the singer, when he was pushing Murdoc up and onto the plush surface and smothering him with a multitude of blankets.

For a while, 2D just sat on the floor beside his bed, long legs crossed together Indian-style, black eyes wide and unblinking and trained on the sleeping bassist residing in his bed, blissfully unaware of the singers inner turmoil. 2D had heard of people dying from things like this, sudden withdrawals. He couldn’t help but wonder if Murdoc had made the right choice, cutting off both alcohol and speed all at once. His symptoms seemed almost too severe. They scared the very wits out of the singer.

He’d never been a religious person. Growing up, his mother and father had claimed Catholicism, but never forced the blue-haired boy to join such a religion. There was no Sunday morning church services, no spare bibles lying around the house, no crosses hung up on the wall. The deepest sense of religion he’d ever received was from the numerous Satanic bibles and wax pentagrams lying around Murdoc’s apartment. Still, he’d been told his whole life, from people of every background and religion there is, that prayer was a good way to receive help in desperate situations. Awkwardly folding his long legs beneath his hips, 2D found his hands shaking where they clasped around each other desperately, his grip slick with nervous sweat his body was continuously producing. This withdrawal thing was a vicious cycle for both of them.

Now that he was in the formal position came the top question: who exactly was he praying to? Had Murdoc been conscious, the singer knew that he would have been less than pleased if he caught 2D praying to anyone but Satan. However, God was the almighty power, wasn’t he? At least that’s what he’d been brought up to believe. Maybe he’d chuck Buddhism in the mix, too. That religion had always appealed to his peaceful nature.

“Um,” the singer began, suddenly bashful. “Well, I’m no’ quite sure how to do this sorta fing but, my mate Murdoc isn’t doin’ so hot, so, I was hopin’ that you could, y’know, help me out down here. If you’ve got time, of course. This is to either God or Satan, either one works, really. Oh, or Buddha. Especially Buddha.”

He concluded the prayer with a curt amen, crawled on top of the stiff mattress, and slung an arm around Murdoc’s torso. He found sleep faster while listening to the bassists slow heartbeat pressed against his ear than he had in ages. The warmth of his body heat didn’t hurt, either. 2D was, for all extensive purposes, content. He even drooled a bit.

 

x

 

The singer woke to the smell of nicotine flooding his nostrils, a smell that he had definitely grown used to over the past few months living with Murdoc, but this time, it seemed more pungent. His suspicions were confirmed when he realized his twig-like arm was no longer drawn over the torso of a sleeping body, but instead, haphazardly tossed across the waist of a bassist who was, for all observable purposes, very much awake. Having been lying flat on his stomach, 2D slowly lifted his head up out of the pillow it was buried against, forcing his already bleary eyes to adjust to the sudden change of scenery as his eyelids scrunched together over black holes while he worked to take in the sight before him. There sat next to him was none other than Murdoc Niccals, his bare back propped up against the wall the mattress resided against with a half-finished cigarette hanging loosely between his chapped lips. He watched 2D with an unreadable expression, though with more focus than the singer had seen him contain since before the withdrawal.

He looked quite a bit like Christmas morning.

“You didn’t slip me a roofie and shag me, now, did you?” Murdoc questioned gruffly, successfully breaking the silence as his red pinky nail dragged lightly over the angry red claw marks on the singers otherwise porcelain back that were distinctly recognizable as his own. Goosebumps arose on 2D’s skin, though he found himself smiling harder than he had in ages.

Murdoc was back.

The singer committed to Buddhism, then and there. After all, Buddha had been the last name on his prayer list, and he liked to believe that it was him that revived Murdoc from the clutches of his nasty withdrawal symptoms.

 

x

 

Murdoc, for the most part, had made a nice recovery. The only symptoms that hung around like a pair of looming dark clouds were the shakes and the occasional stutter, two things that annoyed the irritable bassist to no end. 2D continuously swore that coffee only made it worse, but like he did with most things 2D said, Murdoc ignored such warnings.

“How long was I out?” The question came a few days following Murdoc’s resurrection, and 2D finally felt comfortable enough to talk about the terrifying journey that was Murdoc’s detox period. Honestly, he wasn’t _completely_ ready, but he was tired of the bassist pestering him for details, so.

“Well,” 2D began, fingers drumming against the coffee mug wrapped within his large palms as he stared at the table. Meeting Murdoc’s gaze was too hard, right now. “Abou’ a week, I fink. I-I jus’ stopped keeping track of the time, after a while.” It was clearly hard for 2D to recall all the details of the past week, whether that be because of his poor brain capacity, or his unwillingness to remember: Murdoc would never know.

“It’s like this, dents,” Murdoc settled against the back of the creaky chair he was seated in, his fingers currently wrapped around their own cup of coffee as he rubbed his face with his free hand. He needed to shave. “Pictures, if that makes sense. Little _bbbursts_ of memory. I remember a few things here and there, but not the whole period. Think I maybe should have eased into the _wwwhole_ detox thing a tad bit slower than I did-”

“You think?” 2D suddenly piped up, nerves momentarily suppressed as a surge of anger ran through his veins like hot lava. However, he cooled quickly, upon seeing the curious look on the bassists face at his sudden outburst. “‘m sorry, Muds. I was jus’... I’ve never been so worried my whole life, I swear. It was fucking horrible.” Murdoc didn’t deserve such concern, that much was clear, but for some reason, he still received it. From 2D, of all people. It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone gives at least some semblance of a shit about you.

“It’s gonna take a _lllot_ more than that to knock out ol’ Murdoc, sunshine. I’m not going anywhere for a long time, alright?” Murdoc swore, leaning across the dingy kitchen table to level his gaze on 2D’s. It might have been a lighting trick, but the bassist swore he saw the distinct twinkle of tears in the corners of 2D’s wide, black eyes. The singer weakly mumbled out an acceptance, nodding his head slowly as he dug what was left of his top teeth into his bottom lip. “Good. Now come on, you miserable ponce. We’re out of cigarettes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: first off, I'm not entirely sure when 2D became a Buddhist, so I decided to make it happen pre-Phase 1. Second off, I'm sorry this story is going in no kind of order, please, bear with me, as I'm trying to work out just how I want to format this. I do know that I don't want to spend all my time in Phase 1, as I plan on exploring all of the phases, but I wanna know if people would like a few more Phase 1 chapters, or if I should cap it off here, like I was planning to do? Feel free to either comment here with feedback or shoot me an ask over on my tumblr (the url is latinsimona, just like my pen name); I answer to them all! Once again, thank you for reading, and have a great day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowboat to Hades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! I’m so sorry this one took so long to spit out. As you may have seen on my tumblr, I got about an equal number of requests for both more Phase 1 and for me to kick off Phase 2. Since I was so torn, I had an idea to write up a chapter that was both the end of Phase 1 and the start of Phase 2. The idea was pretty nice, and it would have been wonderful if I had been able to get it down. I literally didn’t know where to start. I spent too much time trying to simply kick it off and I realized I was just wasting my time. That chapter may very will spring to action later on, and I may even have to make a separate story full of all the drafts of this one (there are quite a lot, surprisingly). Anyway, I’d already had a bit of this chapter typed up when I finished the last one, and I found it easier to just go along and wrap this up then try and kick myself into typing up a fresh chapter. Once again, I really, really loved all the feedback I got from you guys. I hate feeling like I’m just throwing these chapters out to you, I want to interact with you guys more! Please, please, please feel free to message me on either here or on my tumblr (latinsimona). So, without further adieu, here’s chapter six, and the official start of Phase 2!

2D never really understood when people used the term ‘living ghost’. It was a contradiction in itself, and he wasn’t all too good with those, especially after the twin Murdoc-induced car accidents. He preferred to keep things simple and straightforward; sometimes metaphors had the potential to pierce his scattered brain, if they were pleasant, that is. 

But when he’s standing beneath the wretched metal archway of Kong Studios, wind whipping at his face and hair and causing his bones to freeze in place, he does finally understand what people meant when they called someone a living ghost. It was someone who may as well have been dead, as they’d faded so far away from the swing of things, but weren’t quite there yet. They, instead, hoovered amongst the living, not quite explainable, but unforgettable, untouchable. Otherworldly. He finally understood.

Murdoc Niccals was a living ghost. 

The bassist looked good. He looked powerful, not like he hadn’t before, but more so now than ever. A deep purple cloak hung around his shoulders, -- didn’t he remember reading about how the purple was the color of royalty once, somewhere? -- and 2D caught a brief flash of the red velvet that aligned the inside of the cape. A skull held it all together at the base of Murdoc’s throat. Wrapped within his skeleton fingers and wicked nails was the brass top of a cane, one that 2D was sure the bassist didn’t own before their unfortunate departure. Had Murdoc been injured?

The all too familiar combination of dark denim jeans and leather Cuban-heeled boots brought a wave of nostalgia upon the singer. He never realized just how much he’d missed seeing those two paired together. Almost as much as he’d missed the person wearing them.

Much like a kid on Christmas, 2D saved the best for last, his large black orbs slowly roaming over every detail on Murdoc’s body from the feet up (was that a new belt?) until they finally settled on Murdoc’s face.

Oh, bugger.

Murdoc’s two-toned eyes seemed to have grown even harsher, and for a moment 2D worried that the bassist had started back up on his nasty speed habit, though he quickly dismissed the idea. Murdoc wasn’t _that_ reckless. However, the bags that had taken up a permanent residence beneath the bassists eyes seemed darker in pigment, as though Murdoc had passed up on months and months of sleep. 2D knew he sure had. A small stubble dotted along Murdoc’s jawline, one that Murdoc used to keep contained, though it seemed as if the bassist had decided to neglect such cosmetic necessities. The impenetrable fringe that hung low over Murdoc’s eyes was now, somehow, even sharper than before, though tinged with the slightest hint of grey. 2D felt his heart clench at the thought of the bassist growing older. 

A raven sat perched on Murdoc’s shoulder, his coat sleek and beautiful, despite the harsh red tones of his beady eyes. Where did Murdoc _find_ these things? Upon realizing the singer had set his gaze upon the creature, the raven cawed menacingly in his direction, puffing up it’s wings before settling back down slowly against Murdoc’s shoulder. Right then, point taken: avoid the bird. 

“Long time no see, pretty boy,” the all too familiar baritone voice flooded across 2D’s frame, his body producing a fresh round of goosebumps that were definitely not influenced by the wind. Had he really gone without hearing that voice for a year and a half? Without realizing how much time had begun to pass, 2D continued to stare at the bassist, his black eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed as much as he could. Huffing in annoyance, Murdoc rolled his eyes, seemingly perturbed by the singers lack of response. “Nice to see you haven’t suddenly developed any new brain cells, idiot.”

“ _Murdoc_ ,” the singer finally forced himself to wheeze out, his eyes stinging with the threat of oncoming tears. Now was the _worst_ time for his emotional side to make an appearance. “It’s really _you_.” 

Much like the raven that had taken up residence on his shoulder had, Murdoc seemed to puff out his chest, the slightest hint of a prideful smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he straightened up. His fingers drummed lazily against the top of the cane wrapped within his grip, gaze never faltering from that of his singers as he did so. He was still, for all extensive purposes, very intimidating to 2D.

“Of course it is, _my dear_ ,” the bassist crooned, causing 2D to sway on his feet a bit. Where was his resolve? Where had the courage he’d mustered up over the past few months gone? Why wasn’t he attacking Murdoc’s character for all it was worth for nearly killing him the way he had all those months ago? “The one and only.”

“Yeah, well,” 2D spoke up, futilely attempting to sound nonchalant as he averted his gaze from Murdoc’s. It was too much; he couldn’t stare him and the face and insult him at the same time. He wasn’t _that_ brave, not yet. Remembering a trick he’d seen in some film over the summer, the singer looked down at his nails, idly picking at the ends as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. Murdoc narrowed his eyes at the action, though said nothing. “I’m not excited to see you. I’d be happier to see...um...a lot of things that aren’t you.” 

Now he’d gone and made an ass out of himself. He knew as much when he heard the mocking bark of a laugh that Murdoc allowed to escape his tainted lungs, the sound grating against the last shreds of the singers confidence as he shrunk back on himself. Well, at least he’d tried. 

“Right. Well, I’m not ecstatic to see you either, shit for brains. I’ve encountered dead bodies with more sense than you’ve got.” There was a cruelty in Murdoc’s tone, one that 2D wasn’t really used to hearing, that caused the singer to bring his eyes back up to Murdoc’s to gaze upon him questioningly. He didn’t really mean that, did he? The bassist allowed his inhumanly long tongue to flick out from between his teeth to wet over his lips, sending 2D’s mind in a floozy as he remembered that night in Jamaica all those years ago, and the way that tongue felt pressed against his--

“If you’re having a fun time standing there gaping at me like a fish out of water, by all means, don’t let me disturb you. But, in case you’ve forgotten, there are two other people in this building that may or may not want to see you. Not that _I_ care, but _they_ might. Might not want to come out here and find you transformed into a zombies lunch.” As if on cue, the distant rumble of thunder resonated throughout the singers very bones, followed by the haunting groan of the lurking undead. Point taken. Scrambling to follow the bassists retreating figure inside, 2D found himself practically breathing down Murdoc’s neck at the proximity. Finally, he sighed, his resolve fading as the all too familiar (and quite peculiar) scent of Murdoc hit his nose. Was he really pitiful enough to miss the stench of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweaty musk?

“I didn’t mean what I said, Muds,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. Murdoc, used to the singers timid mumbling, heard it, humming a soft noise of acknowledgement in response. “I did miss you. A lot.”

“I know you did, denthead,” Murdoc confirmed, refusing to turn around and face 2D. He couldn’t let the dullard see the small smile he’d brought upon his face. The bassist almost forgot how nice it was to have someone around that hopelessly, no matter how unwillingly, adored you. “I missed me, too.”

2D could only drop his chin to his chest to try and hide the boyish smile that overtook his features, his long legs carrying him inside the large building that was Kong Studios as the door closed loudly behind him. Gorillaz were back. 

x

Surprising even himself, it was 2D that first noticed that something was off about Russel. Of course, Noodle had her suspicions -- the girl was so smart, so wonderful and beautiful and talented and she made them all so proud with how she’d matured over the break, but that was another story for another time -- but it was the singer that finally confronted the drummer. 

It wasn’t easy for 2D to hunt Russel down, as the drummer made himself quite inaccessible, but the singer had a habit of popping up when people least expected him too. Was a nice trick, and it worked successfully on most people, as they usually just got a bit of a fright before they surrendered themselves to the singers incessant presence. However, Russel seemed to be a bit more high strung than most of the singers victims.

“Russ!” 2D exclaimed, having jumped out from the door he’d hid himself behind as he heard the drummers heavy approaching footsteps. Russel’s white eyes widened, and before he was able to cognitively process that it was 2D before him, and not an actual threat, he’d delivered a sharp, meaty fist to the singers thin stomach, sending him sprawling out a solid few feet before finally skidding to a stop. 

“Shit, ‘D, what the hell are you doing?” Russel barked, though his tone was concerned as he shuffled over to kneel down beside the singer. It was clear that 2D was in no position to speak, and Russel was left to assume he’d accidentally knocked the wind out of him. Poor guy. “I’m sorry, man, but you really shouldn’t be scaring me like that!” 2D only shot a shaky grin in Russel’s direction as he continued to pant and heave hunched over on the floor. Still, he recovered fairly quickly, having endured the same punishment from Murdoc for ages. 

“I’m sorry, Russ, I jus’ wanted to talk to you.” 2D confessed after finally catching his breath, his scrawny arms working to push him up into a standing position as Russel did the same. The drummer couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous; 2D was known for his remarkable ability to babble on for hours on end about nothing of importance. Russel liked him and all, but he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for one of those sessions. Still, he figured he at least owed him that much, as he did, quite literally, knock him out. 

“A...alright, yeah, we can talk,” Russel said, shoulders slumping visibly. Inside, 2D did a small victory punch, though he kept his face carefully composed before Russel. “What’s up?”

“Come with me!” 2D encouraged, wrapping his fingers around as much of Russel’s hand as he could reach. He set off at a pretty quick pace, though was quickly tugged backward due to his firm grip on Russel’s hand. Looked like they were going at his pace, then. Huffing in slight annoyance, Russel followed behind 2D, allowing himself to be trailed up and down the shoddy hallways of Kong until the pair finally reached the balcony. Upon realizing 2D’s destination, Russel narrowed his eyes; this was Murdoc and 2D’s spot. He’d seen the pair seated out on the overlook more times than he could count, smoking and lounging about and simply basking in each others presence. He’d always questioned the nature of their relationship, but kept his concerns to himself. 

“Look, Russ,” 2D said after finally getting settled across from where he’d set Russel. The singer was sitting in Murdoc’s spot. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the bassist were to catch him in the act. “I know something’s happened, alright? I know you probably think I’m stupid, but I’m not,” Russel immediately felt bad for all the years he’d written 2D off as the brainless pretty boy. Sure, he considered 2D a friend, but half the time he barely took him seriously. “I’m your friend, and I’m _here_ , and I wanna know.”

Russel always figured it would be Noodle to come to him first about his situation, but alas, it was 2D. He always was a bit of a surprise. 

“Del’s gone,” Russel said simply, voice low as he looked over the railing to the landfill stretched out around Kong. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t get emotional, that he’d already spent too many months in agony over the loss of his best friend. Though 2D had his fears, he’d never expected it to be something as tragic as _that_.

“W...what d’ya mean, he’s gone?” 2D asked, having an unwelcome inkling about what Russel was referring to, but desiring confirmation nonetheless. Silence settled over the pair for a moment, as Russel’s milky white eyes seemed to have glazed over as he stared out at the trash heap spread out around them. Not knowing what else to do, 2D gently placed one hand atop Russel’s forearm, the sudden touch snapping the drummer back to attention as the singer shot him a small smile. “You alright, Russ?”

“Yeah, man, I’m…” Russel said, forcing himself to shoot 2D an uneasy grin in hopes to reassure the singer that he was fine. He wasn’t, and probably never would be again, but he could pretend. He could pretend that it was all fine as long as no one asked about it. Of course 2D had to go and do as much. “Del wasn’t the only spirit that lived in me. There were others, ones that were much more violent and angry and I was getting fed up with having my head used like a fucking doll. After the band split up, I went back to Brooklyn, just to get rid of them, y’know? But...when the rest of the spirits left, Del followed.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, tell 2D that it was the work of the Grim Reaper. Murdoc was the only one who knew anything about such a dark force, and he doubted the bassist would want to listen to his problems like 2D apparently did. 

“Oh, Russ,” 2D said, sitting back slightly as the weight of Russel’s confession hit him. It seemed that Russel was often, and unfortunately, overlooked. He was such a solid, grounding force that it never crossed 2D’s mind that he had his own struggles and problems to go through. Compelled by pity and the desire to put the man before him at ease, 2D stood up from his own chair, his long legs coming to stand between Russel’s parted thighs as he leaned down and wrapped his spidery arms around the drummers broad shoulders. He felt Russel tense up beneath him, felt the strain of muscle beneath skin that he’d felt a hundred times before when he touched Murdoc, but he wouldn’t let it deter him. His arms only squeezed tighter, his head coming to press against the side of Russel’s as he closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

And unlike all the sickeningly sorrowful looks he’d received from all those who knew what happened to Del, 2D was genuine. Albeit air-headed, but concerned nonetheless. The oncoming threat of tears stung at the corners of Russel’s eyes as he smiled sadly, lifting one beefy hand up to rest on 2D’s slim back as he held the singer against him. “It’s okay, ‘D,” Russel assured him, feeling the soft sigh that escaped 2D’s lungs as he settled against him. “I’ll be okay.” 

x

“He’s _what_?” Murdoc asked incredulously, the shock of 2D’s statement causing his cigarette to almost fall from it’s grip between his index and middle finger. The singer only nodded sadly, gaze downcast in his lap as he tapped at his own burning stick.

“Gone, Muds. Like, dead, forreal this time, though.” Much like he’d done with Russel the day before, 2D had dragged Murdoc out to the balcony with him, knowing he had to do as much when Murdoc made a passing comment about having Del feature on the album. He still felt warm as he remembered the thankful look the drummer had sent him when he’d managed to drag Murdoc off and successfully dissuade the topic of conversation. It felt nice, being there for someone. 

“Christ,” Murdoc said, eyebrows raised incredulously as he settled back against his own chair once more. “Or Satan. Was Del a Christian, do you know?”

“That’s not funny, Murdoc,” 2D chastised, thick brows drawing together in a frown as he puffed on his cigarette. “You know that’s not funny.”

“I know, I know, lighten up a bit, will you? Disappear for a year and a half and come back with a stick up your arse,” Murdoc complained, rolling his eyes before taking another drag from the hanging stick between his lips. “Since when are you and Russel so chummy, anyway? You befriending him to nick portions off his plates?” 

“No, we’re mates,” 2D said, fighting hard against the smile that threatened to cross his lips. Murdoc’s dry sense of humor never went unappreciated with 2D. “At least he can talk to me without insulting me for five minutes.” 

“Hey, now, I don’t insult you all the time,” Murdoc defended, though his offended facial expression soon turned into a leering smile at the incredulous look 2D shot him. “Actually, I do, but what else are best mates good for, eh?”

Now why’d he have to go and tag on the _best_ bit of that? 2D looked away from Murdoc quickly as he felt a blush tainting his cheeks, his smile reveling that of an embarrassed schoolgirl as he gnawed on his lower lip with what was left of his top teeth. He’d been so worried that Murdoc would replace him during their time apart, that he would come back to Kong only to see Murdoc with another friend, someone smarter and more attractive and funnier than he was. Instead, the bassist only came back with a raven, and two shoddy friends from his time in a Mexican prison that wanted to be on the album in return for helping bust Murdoc out of jail. 2D’s spot was secured. 

“I’m your best mate, Muds?” 2D asked, turning around to face Murdoc with a pitifully hopeful expression on his face. Christ. Murdoc couldn’t say no if he wanted to.

“Sure, I suppose,” Murdoc grumbled, turning away from 2D’s elated grin to hide his own embarrassed features. “But if you piss me off, I’ll have Cortez pick out what’s left of your brain cells, you little shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my author's notes are already way too long at the beginning, but I just want to give you all a heads up. As we all know, things get much darker from Phase 1 to Phase 2, especially with Murdoc and 2D's relationship. I will be exploring this. It might get a bit heavy, and though I'm not planning on anything too extreme (don't worry about like torture or anything like that because bump that honestly), I still don't want to catch anyone off guard. There will be light at the end of the tunnel, though! But as always with this band, things must get worse before they get better. Thank you for reading, please comment and leave me feedback!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day of recording, 2D and Murdoc find an atypical solace in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys know I had to post an update now that we've got new Gorillaz music, right? A more detailed explanation will be provided at the end of the chapter notes! But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, as it is long overdue.

Reflecting back on it, 2D should have probably just stayed home.

It's not that he doesn't _enjoy_ coming out with Murdoc, because he _does_ , it's just a taxing experience. Especially when Murdoc gets piss drunk _right_ in front of him, just to rub it in his face that he's _not_ the designated driver, and he's got _no reason_ to stay anything close to sober. Still, it was a celebratory drink, and it was hard to turn things down when they were propositioned by Murdoc. They'd finally finished recording O Green World, a track that had taken far longer to cap off than 2D would've liked, but everyone was elated with the end result, so that was the end of it.

“Mate,” Murdoc grinned, all slippery tongue and jagged teeth as one set of crooked fingers wrapped within 2D's slightly overgrown locks. He tugged the singers forehead against his own, sending goosebumps along 2D's moderately bruised flesh as he was forced to lock eyes with Murdoc's lecherous gaze. “Mate, mate, mate, mate, maaaaate. Why so glum, love?”

2D pouted at this, because Murdoc _knew_ why he was so glum. The answer was residing in the single finished beer sitting right in front of 2D on the bar, taunting him because he couldn't have another.

“You know why, you tosser,” 2D mumbled, lifting one hand up weakly from his lap to shove Murdoc's hand away from his hair. That was a mistake, and he realized as much when he felt the playful slap on his cheek that somehow managed to come off _way_ too hard. Still, he only so much as flinched, used to having pain inflicted by him from the man he claimed as his best mate.

“Don't get lippy with me, sunbeam,” Murdoc warned, though the smile tugging at the corners of his lips let 2D know he was way too drunk to actually get mad. Besides, he'd run off with some bird to the toilets half an hour or so before and had come out looking more than satisfied. He had no reason to be angry, not tonight. “I told you to call a taxi.”

“Murdoc, you know taxi drivers refuse to drive up to Kong anymore. The last guy that did tried to eat me last week.”

Murdoc mulled this over for a moment, face surprisingly solemn. As fast as it had come, the facade snapped, the bassists trademark grin slowly sliding back into place. 2D gave off an unseen roll of his eyes, one hand having lifted from his lap to run along the various watermarks left by the numerous sweating drinks Murdoc had consumed within the past hour.

“Not my fault the bastard couldn't run fast enough,” Murdoc mused, running one hand composed of jagged fingers along the beginnings of a stubble along his jawline. 2D's darkened eyes followed the movement, not much else interesting enough to catch his attention. However, he soon realized his mistake when he heard Murdoc's throaty chuckle, his gaze flashing upward to meet that of the bassists two-toned orbs. “See something you like, baby?”

A few years ago the pet name would have had him in a puddle of his own want, but now 2D found himself simply rolling his eyes, the small sting of arousal that shot through him not enough to encourage him to pursue Murdoc's blatantly obvious attempt. Instead, he leaned forward, pencil thin arms swiping at the rest of the contents of Murdoc's glass as he safely pulled it closer to himself. He didn't miss the dangerous way his bandmates eyes narrowed, but he couldn't care enough to be afraid of it. He was sex deprived and sober, save for the numerous painkillers he'd downed upon waking up.

“Think it's about time we go, yeah?” 2D questioned, dramatizing a glance to the broken clock on the wall. “We've got to record again tomorrow.” Murdoc narrowed his gaze at him, the desire to fight against their departure clear in his eyes before he heaved a sigh and hopped to his feet. A breath of relief left 2D upon realizing that, maybe for the first time in his natural born life, Murdoc was going to make things easier for him.

“You gonna suck me off when we get back to the Winnie?” The bassist questioned casually, already reaching in his pocket to pull out a cigarette which he made quick work of lighting. Despite his earlier annoyance, 2D couldn’t help but grin as he rolled his eyes, his fingers reaching in his pocket to pluck out a stick of his own before he stuck it unlit between his lips. There was comfort in finding things to be the exact same as how he’d left them, and Murdoc’s nonchalant constant state of arousal was something 2D didn’t see changing in the near future.

“Do you deserve it?” he fired back, already halfway out the door with Murdoc hot on his heels. Eyebrows rising to comical degrees beneath his thick fringe, Murdoc let out a low whistle, followed by a lecherous grin. Clicking his tongue, he gave the singer a firm slap on the bum—he quickly reserved that he was definitely going to do that later, whether the denthead wanted to or not—leaping over the side of the Geep and tugging the keys out of his pocket.

“You’ve gotten quite lippy in our time away haven’t you, sunbeam?” 2D began to make a noise of protest at the sight of Murdoc climbing behind the wheel, but the sound was shot down at the grumbling sound of Murdoc growling at him. Heaving a sigh, he allowed his long legs to clamber up into the passenger seat, his fingers twitching restlessly in his lap. “However, if memory serves me right, speaking isn’t the thing that pretty mouth does best. Singing is, but getting me off is a close second, so. Better start taking your cough drops now, love, it’s going to be a _looong_ night.”

2D huffed, turning his face against the window to hide the stupid, lovesick, idiotic smile he felt spreading across his face. He truly was a fucking idiot. Oh, well.

 

X

 

“Hnnng, c’mon 2D, let me fucking _do it_.” Murdoc groaned, deep and throaty. 2D, pathetically, made a muffled noise of protest around Murdoc’s cock which was, unsurprisingly, shoved to the hilt halfway down his larynx. “Oh fuck, don’t do that or it’ll end up down your throat.” That was the point, actually. Swallowing Murdoc was one thing; 2D found he slept better at night _not_ thinking about just what Murdoc had been ingesting, because while he knew that Murdoc probably had the seed of Satan, if he pretended that Murdoc had actually been eating good or was following a diet other than alcohol and cigarettes, he could trick himself into thinking it may not be all bad. However, he wasn’t sure he would be able to think of that same imaginary Murdoc if, instead of going down his throat, his spunk went all over his face. It wasn’t very appealing, to say the least. Blinking up at Murdoc with eyes rimmed with tears, 2D channeled the filthiest porn star he could remember and moaned pornographically around Murdoc’s length, his large hands running teasingly along the older man’s inner thighs as he did so.

“Oh, you dirty fucking—” Murdoc growled before abruptly gripping 2D’s chin as he pulled out of the younger man’s mouth. A long, slick trail of spit connected the two before 2D felt his face being splattered with the very substance he feared most. Squeaking out Murdoc’s name and spluttering wildly, 2D squirmed until the older man was finally finished. Seemed like Murdoc’s inhumane ability to produce an excess amount of spunk hadn’t gone anywhere. Actually, it had: on his fucking face.

Grinning lecherously, Murdoc released 2D’s chin from the death grip he’d held it in, his chest heaving as he came down from his mind-blowing orgasm. “2D, you never fail to amaze me,” he said dreamily, stroking one finger through the mess he’d made on the singers face lovingly. 2D was sure the black-eyed glare he was fixing Murdoc was less than intimidating with his face covered in the evidence of the other man’s orgasm, however, he held steady. “Oh, don’t get pouty with me, I’ll clean it up.” Murdoc promised, leaning down and tweaking one of 2D’s pert, pink nipples into erection. A sharp intake of breath escaped 2D’s lips, and before he knew it, Murdoc’s snakelike tongue was working its way across his face as the bassist licked his own spunk off. Frozen into surprise, 2D was horrified to find his dick twitching against Murdoc’s leg in a spark of interest. He felt more than saw the bassist grin, accompanied by his soul deep chuckle.

“Kinky, are we?” Murdoc suggested, his two-toned eyes having gone dark with arousal once more. 2D, despite all the years he’d known Murdoc, still had the gall to look surprised as he noticed the other man’s erection standing up once again. While Murdoc wasn’t outstandingly older than he himself was, 2D recalled enough in school to know that it wasn’t usual for a man Murdoc’s age to have such a short refractory period. It wouldn’t surprise 2D if he found out the older man had placed some sort of sex spell on himself. It seemed like the kind of thing he’d do.

“D’ya ever shut _up_?” 2D grumbled, not missing the flash of red hot anger that shot across Murdoc’s features at the question. Rather than cower at the presence of the other man’s anger, 2D grasped both sides of Murdoc’s face and smashed his own uneventfully against it. He felt all the tension leave the older man’s body at the connection of their lips—he fucking _loved_ kissing Murdoc, and knew that Murdoc wasn’t as opposed to the act as he tried to make it seem. He found himself being pressed into the silk sheets that covered Murdoc’s bed, his thighs automatically falling apart to make room for the older man. A low growl of appreciation rumbled through Murdoc’s frame as he nestled his pelvis directly against 2D’s own and, without breaking lip contact, _thrust_.

2D sucked in a sharp breath of air at the contact, his arousal having finally found the friction he’d been so desiring. A soft whine fell from his lips as Murdoc repeated the movement, a noise that the bassist greedily sucked from his mouth as one hand trailed down his abdomen. 2D forgot how fucking _exhilarating_ it was being with Murdoc, how every movement the older man made worked him up to into an absolute frenzy. It wasn’t long before 2D found his length pressed up against Murdoc’s in the other man’s tight grip; Murdoc was still slick with 2D’s spit, and the thought of that had 2D’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fought against his impending orgasm.

“Mm, roll over Dents, your body is _begging_ me to come home.” Murdoc murmured against his lips, his eyes boring into 2D’s own as he licked over his lower lip suggestively. The singer was quick to comply, his cock sliding out of Murdoc’s grasp with an unappreciative huff at the lack of contact. Still, he slid down onto his front, knowing that what was to come would _far_ exceed what had already happened.

For once, Murdoc’s nails were at an acceptable length, so 2D didn’t have to worry about being torn apart from the inside. His fingers scrambled to grasp at the pillows as he awaited the touch of the others fingers—he was pleasantly surprised when a loud smack resounded throughout the room, followed shortly by the low sound of Murdoc’s laughter. His right ass cheek stung deliciously, and 2D found himself subconsciously pushing his bottom back, right into Murdoc’s waiting hands. A rumble of appreciation slid lecherously from Murdoc’s lips, followed by what vaguely sounded like Murdoc calling him a ‘filthy little thing, huh?’. He didn’t ponder, as soon enough he felt the left side of his ass receive the same treatment. He turned his face into the sheets, unable to suppress the full body shudder that raked through him as Murdoc slowly spread his cheeks for his viewing pleasure. While the blush on his face could be hidden in the protection of the mattress, the hot flush that crept up from his back to the sides of his neck were surely exposed to the bassist. Soon after, 2D felt the tell-tale wet stripe, starting up from the heavy curve of his sac all the way to his perineum, where Murdoc lingered, his tongue tracing an unintelligible design into the singers skin.

“Oh _fuck_ —,” 2D moaned suddenly, the flush on his skin darkening with Murdoc’s exploration of previously uncharted territory. He found himself half caught between bucking back against Murdoc’s face, reaching a hand around to tangle in the older man’s hair and just _keep him there_ , or arching away from the touch all together, fleeing the foreign feeling that shot up from the base of his spine. A low rumble of a groan vibrated through Murdoc’s chest before the bassist gave one last playful flick of his tongue, his legs rearranging so he was once more resting on his calves.

“ _Oh_ , love, I’d really love to explore the pleasure of that with you,” Murdoc murmured, rather dreamily. 2D shuddered as he felt the bassist circle his hole lightly with the callused tip of his index finger, the motion smooth with the added slick of Murdoc’s spit. He felt like he was going to combust at any given moment. “Another time, though; I’m dying to get inside you, sunbeam.”

The following preparations occurred in a daze—2D was half coherent with want, and knew he probably was drooling and leaking tears all over Murdoc’s sheets as he begged Murdoc to just _get on with it already_. It seemed like no time at all before Murdoc had successfully opened his singer up, 2D’s hole now lose and pliant, and all Murdoc’s to devour. He wasted no time slicking himself up, fighting the urge to simply get himself off with his own hand, the pornographic image of 2D face down on the bed, features slack and pretty pink hole rhythmically clenching around nothing being more than enough stimulation to warrant an orgasm. Combating his selfish desires, Murdoc sat up on his knees, hands settling on either side of 2D’s hips and found his fingers struggling to find purchase—the singer seemed to have really worked himself into a frenzy, if the dazed look in his eyes and the sheen of sweat that shone on his skin were any indication. He watched as 2D pushed himself up on shaky arms, supporting himself on both hands and knees now, his wide, black orbed gaze looking over his shoulder to meet Murdoc’s own before he allowed a cheeky little smile to cross his lips. Before he had time to combat it, Murdoc found his own lips curving upward in turn. He felt his torso reaching over the smooth expanse of 2D’s back in order to press the singer’s lips against his own, a sigh of contentment falling from the both of them, the light press of sweet contact needed on both of their behalves. Murdoc didn’t want to think too much into that.

Keeping his forehead pressed against Murdoc’s, his lips just barely grazing the other mans as his eyelids fluttered helplessly, 2D felt Murdoc begin the slow descent into him, the grip on his hips tightening as 2D’s hips twitched subconsciously.

“Stay still, baby,” Murdoc chastised quietly, his lips moving against 2D’s as he spoke. A helpless noise slipped from 2D’s lips at both the pet name and the feel of Murdoc pressing increasingly deeper inside of him. “Look at you.” A huff of embarrassment slid from 2D’s lips, his flush returning with renewed vigor at the unexpected adoration in which Murdoc spoke to him. He couldn’t recall a time, ever, where the older man had been so free with his praise; it warmed 2D from the inside out to feel the uninhibited veneration that Murdoc bestowed upon him. With a shaky breath, Murdoc pressed all the way into 2D’s body, hips pressed flushed against the singers pert ass. A barely noticeable tremor wracked through 2D’s skinny frame, the overstimulation from both Murdoc’s verbal praise and physical pleasure nearly breaking the singer in two. Fumbling, 2D reached one hand up to tangle within the back of Murdoc’s black locks, his fingers tightening apace as he worked to anchor himself, lest the pleasure sweep him into an incoherent state.

“Murdoc, _nng_ , _please_.” 2D moaned, not entirely sure what exactly it was he was pleading for, just knew deep down within his _bones_ that he needed something that, in that moment, only Murdoc could give. Pressing one lingering kiss on his lips, Murdoc slid back away from him, resting back on his knees as he gave an appreciative stroke down 2D’s sweat slick back, bared for his viewing pleasure.

“Yeah, baby, I got you,” Murdoc said, voice raspy with arousal and emotion. How had he not noticed the angelic qualities of the man before him until now? How had so many years gone past without him showing 2D with constant praise? How had fate, who had always dealt him the worst of hands, slid this gold mine into his possession without his full appreciation and acknowledgement? Deaf to Murdoc’s internal epiphanies, 2D impatiently pushed his hips back against Murdoc’s, a soft grunt of displeasure at the attention being off of him—and really, 2D _was_ the front man, any time that the spotlight _wasn’t_ trained on him was one that the little diva couldn’t handle—as he successfully ensnared the bassist’s full attention once more.

From there it was a blur, cohesive and coherent thought a thing of the past as they both gave in to the mindless pleasure that their union brought forth. There were high points, points where 2D was half on the verge of falling submissive to unconsciousness, points where Murdoc brushed and touched and licked and thrusted just _right_ , points where 2D couldn’t hold back his cries of unreserved pleasure as he screamed and cried and moaned his way straight into a sore and raspy throat. By the time the end came, Murdoc brushed one errant finger across 2D’s right nipple, and the singer found himself dribbling come into the sheets, his cock having gone completely untouched. The rhythmic tightening and the sobbing sounds of 2D’s delectation ringing sweetly in his ears was more than enough for Murdoc to follow suit: he tightened his hold on 2D’s wanton hips, ensuring the placement of his own hand-shaped bruises on the pale skin, thrust once, twice, three times before tossing his head back and releasing deep within the singer with a long, agonized grunt that rumbled up from the pit of his chest. 2D’s own spent cock gave one final, pitiful twitch at the sudden flood of warmth that flooded his insides, and he relished in the sensation of being utterly, completely _filled_.

Some time later, after the sweat on both of their frames had cooled, 2D found himself lying on his stomach, face turned towards Murdoc perched next to him on the bed. The bassist regarded him with a careful gaze, having propped himself up with his elbows tucked beneath his back; Murdoc lounged shamelessly, naked body on full display, softened cock and all, with a confidence that 2D himself had never been able to muster up. The older man had been minutely feeding puffs of his own cigarette over to 2D’s lips, having realized the younger man was far too boneless to even attempt the motions necessary to retrieve his own.

“I’ve never,” 2D began, voice harsh from his earlier cries and a short period of disuse. Murdoc watches on with a hawkeye as the singer licks over his lower lip before continuing. “I’ve never…y’know. Came _untouched_ before.” The confession came with a virgin-level innocent blush, and Murdoc couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the sight.

“Yeah?” He questioned, one eyebrow raised beneath his thick fringe. Sex talk was second nature to Murdoc; it was one of the more prevalent staples in his many personas. “Well, y’know what they say about ol’ Mudsy is actually true. I’m a catch in the sack.”

He watches, curious, as 2D frowns, forcing himself to push up onto his elbows as he regards Murdoc with a calculating gaze. For someone who was slurring their moans by the end of their rather rigorous fucking, 2D looks a little to focused for his liking. He forces himself not to flinch back as 2D lifts one hand up to stroke an errant clump of hairs down to his forehead.

“Don’t do that,” 2D murmurs, sliding his equally nude body up against Murdoc’s. “You don’t have to pretend around me.” Defensiveness rises up in Murdoc like hot bile, and he instinctively feels himself tensing to push 2D off. Before he’s able to, 2D surges up, presses a kiss to his lips that’s so tender it makes him feel _bitter_ , and strokes feather-light caresses down one cheek. Relaxing into his singers touch, Murdoc sighs into the kiss, the hand not holding the still burning cigarette coming up to tug at the back of 2D’s hair.

“You little tosser.” Murdoc accuses, but the usual bite in his voice is instead, to his own horror, sounding suspiciously like muted affection. 2D grins, damn near toothless, and slowly drags Murdoc back down on top of him with a strength that is deceptive of his wiry frame. Bracing his hands on either side of 2D’s head, Murdoc allows himself this simple pleasure. He’ll be back to knocking 2D’s head around by morning, he swears. And what a pretty head it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it's almost been two whole years since I've updated this fic. As a writer, and also a reader, I understand that frustration of really getting into a work, and seeing that the author has abandoned ship. I want to let you all know that is not what I've done. These past two years have seen me transitioning into college, losing relationships of all kinds, and many more hardships that, at the end of the day, left me with a soul-deep lack of inspiration to do all of the literary things I had once loved so much. This fic was my baby. I had so much in store for this story, I truly did. I would think of all the directions I could go with this story, but when it came time to get pen to paper, I found myself with pause. This final chapter has been in the works since early 2016, with its completion having come around yesterday at 2 AM. While this is not the ending I had planned for this work, I believe this is where I should place the concluding mark on this story. That being said, should inspiration strike, I would definitely be more than happy to add on to this story. But for now, I am at peace with where I've finished off this chapter, and I hope it's to the satisfaction of all of my loyal readers. I truly cannot thank you enough if you've stuck with me all this time, waiting for updates on this story, or shown me any kind of support at all. That support was what finally drove me to kick my ass into gear and wrap this chapter up. Once again, just like before, if you'd ever like to talk to me one on one, come find me on my tumblr @ latinsimona. My inbox is always open.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Phase Zero]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008707) by [noodlerdoodler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler)




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